


Under the Beanie

by W4nderingStar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fantasizing, Foul Language, Gabe can be such a jerk sometimes, Gabe swears like crazy, I don't care what Jack says he was totally a boy scout as a kid, Jack is an optimistic little shit, M/M, Masturbation, OH NO HE'S HOOOT!!1!, Pre-Omnic Crisis, Slow Burn, Stupid sexy Reyes, but forgive him, foul language IN SPANISH, he's got a chip on his shoulder, pre-super soldier, super soldier training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7661452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W4nderingStar/pseuds/W4nderingStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-Omnic Crisis, super soldier training, baby faced Jack and Gabe. My weakness! </p><p>On the bus to super soldier training camp, Jack can't help but notice the class jerk, Reyes. He gets more than he ever bargained for when he finds out what's under that ever-present beanie....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was tired of all the fics skipping over pre-super solider training so I thought I'd take a crack at it. It's turned into a very long crack.  
> It's mostly just an excuse to see Jack and Gabe as teens, and how they ended up “hitting it off right off the bat” yeaaaaah, legends aren't always 100% true. Best part? IT'S NOT SAD AND ANGSTY! My heart needed a break from that.

The transport jarred roughly. Jack swayed with it. That was the fourth time in an hour. Whatever road they were on, it was clearly in need of some work. His gaze flicked to the windows before he could stop himself. Useless. They'd all been blacked out. “Classified training encampment” their supervisors said. Jack was getting tired of it. Everything was classified. From the injections, to the pills, hell, even the possible reactions to the program were all classified.

If they were taking them somewhere stupid he was going to get pissed. He signed up to be a soldier, defend his home, save lives. Not be shuffled from one laboratory to another. The transport rocked again.

“ Where the hell are you taking us?” one of Jack's program-mates shouted at the front of the transport.

There was a rumbling of agreement through the fifty-some recruits. The supervising officer said nothing. Big surprise there.

The recruit that spoke up, Green, if Jack remembered, turned around. “Hey, runt. You got your nose up the major's ass. You know anything?”

Jack rolled his eyes. Just because he followed protocol everyone thought he was a brown-noser. “No, on both counts,” he said. “But you have your mouth up the Captain's skirt. Why don't you ask her?”

“ Fuck you, Morrison.” Green blushed as a ripple of laughter went through the transport. “Yo, Reyes,” Green said, ignoring Jack.

Jack looked at the man two rows up from him. Cadet Reyes had headphones in, attention in a book. He'd never been the social type. Green leaned over the aisle, shoving the other cadet's shoulder.

“ Hey, Reyes, I'm talking to you.”

There was a collective holding of breath. Even Jack found himself watching for the response. Everyone knew Reyes was the most senior recruit in the Enhancement program. Been in the military for a few years when most on the bus had only just finished basic, Jack included. That gave him seniority, even if everyone in the program was busted back down to recruit regardless of rank. Green shoving him was a challenge, and everyone waited to see how Reyes would react.

Slowly, the book closed. A hand lifted, deliberately taking its time to pull one of the headphones free. Reyes turned his face just enough to see the one who bothered him. The transport was silent.

“ Yes, Cadet?” came the slow, measured response.

Ice cold. It sent a not terribly unpleasant chill down Jack's spine. Badass without even trying.

“ Morrison and I were wondering,” Green began, throwing Jack under the bus with him, “you've been in a while. Where you think they're taking us?”

Reyes' gaze flicked to Jack for a second. Jack hoped his confused look got across the “I had nothing to do with this don't look at me I wasn't the one that shoved you,” that he was feeling. Reyes held his gaze for a second. Jack felt his treacherous spine melt as those brown eyes bored into him. Before he could stop himself, he tried to place their color. Not chocolate, they were darker than that. Before he could muse anymore the eyes left him and returned to Green. Damn.

“ I have no idea what their intentions are,” he said, cracking open the book again.

“ Come on,” Green needled. “You've been in long enough. You can't tell me you haven't heard any rumors or anything.”

Jack wasn't even the center of attention but he could feel everyone's zeroing in on Reyes like a microscope. He was suddenly reminded of being a kid in school, hanging off every word of the kid that had a gross new scar, or who got to kiss a girl over summer break.

Reyes closed his book with a soft thump. Jack found himself studying the back of his head. It was covered with a black beanie. In fact, Jack couldn't remember seeing the other without it during the few weeks they’d been in the program. Idly, he wondered what was under it. Hair surely, but what kind? What color? Reyes turned his head, and Jack studied his profile. Wait... had that been a smirk? It was gone too fast to be sure.

“ Maybe, I have,” Reyes said, setting his book in his lap.

“ Well?” Green demanded, leaning over his seat like everyone else in the transport.

“ Nothing was ever proven of course,” Reyes said, flippantly.

He had a captive audience.

“ We're not the first wannabe super soldiers you know,” he said, so matter-of-fact Jack almost believed him. “There was a crop of recruits before."

Green scoffed. “Yeah right. How would you know?”

“ They offered me a spot in the program,” Reyes shrugged. “Good thing I turned them down.”

“ What happened?” a new voice entered the conversation.

Reyes took out the other headphone, taking his time, coiling up the wire, dragging out the silence. “I knew a few of them from basic. They told me they were going in, told me some stuff.” He tucked the headphones in his pocket and dog-eared his place in the book.

“ Well?” someone else demanded. “What did they tell you?"

The hair on the nape of Jack's neck stood on end. The air was practically electric.

“ A few weeks into the Enhancement program, they told me they we all being carted off somewhere. Couldn't tell me where, that it was classified.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. Just like they were now?

“ I didn't hear from them in a long time. Figured, whatever, they're just on a long mission. But then it turned into weeks. Months. So I started asking around.”

He stretched, and Jack's eyes followed the curve and swell of his bicep. Damn. And they said they wouldn't see any physical enhancements until deeper into the program. Maybe he was just naturally strong. Another tingle went up his spine. Reyes turned so his long legs were in the aisle so he could face his audience better.

“ I went to my Superior officer first. She said she had no idea what I was talking about, said she didn't recognize the names of the recruits. But they were under her direct command.”

The silence was broken by the transport hitting another pothole and jarring. No one complained.

“ Maybe she really didn't know anything,” Reyes continued, “So I went above her head. It'd been two months since I heard from my buddies. I went straight to the base commander. Nothing happened on his turf without him knowing about it.”

“ What'd he say?” someone else asked.

Reyes put his elbows on his knees and leaned in. “He asked me what the fuck I was talking about.” He lowered his voice. “That no bus full of recruits left his base. When I asked him to explain how fifty men go missing for two months, he went quiet. Told me to get out and stop asking questions.”

Oh come on, everyone was buying this? Jack let his shoulders relax, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Reyes. Okay fine, he would admit that the way he was speaking all confidant and whatever made it slightly believable. But come on. The brass would never just... lose a bunch of potential super soldiers.

“ Did anyone ever find them?” someone asked into the quiet.

Reyes shrugged and opened his book again. “I only ever saw one of them ever again.”

“ Well?” demanded Green when Reyes went back to the book. “Come on tell us what happened after!”

“ You sure you want to know?” Reyes asked, throwing a look around the bus.

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the transport.

He closed the book again. “One night, I was in my bunk, when someone woke me up from a dead sleep, hand on my mouth. It was one of my buddies. He was a mess. All bones, hardly any skin, covered in dirt and shit.” He set the book down, putting his arm up on the back of his seat. “He was babbling like crazy. He told me....” He glanced up at the front of the bus where their officer sat, then lowered his voice. “He told me they'd taken all them out to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Dumped 'em in the middle of a forest one by one, naked, no food, no weapons. Told them last one left alive would get to be a super soldier.”

If there had been a pin to drop, it would have been deafening.

Reyes put his hands on his knees, leaning in, and the rest of the recruits leaned forward to hear. “Told me that he had to kill his friends, and when he couldn't find any food... well... it's not exactly like he could bury them.”

Jack rolled his eyes. Really? Everyone else was eating it up.

“ They left him in the woods for weeks. Told me he killed like ten guys, eating their corpses just to stay alive. He smelled like he'd been eating rotten meat, so I believed him.” He paused, and everyone leaned in a little closer. “Before he could tell me anything else, the MP's broke in and hauled him away, kicking and screaming like he was  _ lo _ —crazy,”

Jack's attention was peaked. It almost sounded like Reyes had cut himself off from saying something. It seemed like the first genuine thing in his story.

“ What did they do with him?” a horse whisper asked.

Reyes shook his head. “You don't want to know.”

“ Yeah we do!”

Reyes sighed, as if he was trying to save them from something and they just wouldn't listen.

“ Come on, you can't leave us hanging!”

“ I found him the next day, or... what was left of him.” Reyes looked at Green. “In the dumpster. There was an arm... and an  _ eyeball _ . They chopped him up, and dumped him in the trash.”

There were few gasps. A few mutterings. Unease swept through the recruits like wildfire. Jack crossed his arms. Unbelievable.

“ And the arm was all cut up, like they had experimented on him before they turned him into a human jigsaw puzzle.”

“ Bullshit!” Green said, for once, Jack agreed with him. “You're making this shit up, Reyes.” His attempt at bravado fell flat when his voice cracked.

Reyes only turned his palms up and shrugged. “You asked.”

The transport slowed. Everyone looked around, had they finally arrived? Their ride stopped in a hiss of brakes. No one moved. The door opened and someone stepped on board. A sergeant by his bars.

“ Green, off the bus,” the mysterious officer said. No more instructions than that.

“ A-Alone?” Green stammered.

The sergeant nodded.

Everyone's attention swiftly turned back to Reyes. Even Jack felt a twinge of unease.

Reyes shook his head and opened his book. “Nice knowing you.”

Green looked downright sick.

“ Recruit!” the officer barked. “Now!”

Green grabbed his duffle bag of equipment and slung it over his shoulder. Everyone watched him slowly walk down the aisle. No one said a word. The sergeant disembarked. Green stood at the front of the bus, face pale, mouth hanging open as he looked out the door.

“ Forest....” he said, looking back into the bus full of recruits.

Jack swore he could see the cadet shitting himself right there.

“ Green!” came the order again.

The cadet hurried off the bus. The door closed and they pulled away.

“ We're just leaving him!” someone up front shouted.

There was no response from their superior.

The cycle continued. The transport passengers dwindled. The bus would stop, a name would be called and another recruit would disappear. The atmosphere got more and more tense. Jack glared at the back of Reyes' head. The cadet was just reading his book, calm, undisturbed. He didn't even look bothered that he'd practically pushed their program-mates into blind fear. Jack couldn't stand it. He hated bullies. 

The transport stopped again.

“ Morrison.”

Jack stood, straight-backed and calm. That asshole's bullshit was not going to get to him. Those pretty brown eyes, sure. But nothing else. He grabbed his gear and put it over his shoulder. He walked down the aisle. When he got to Reyes, he leaned over.  “ You're full of shit,” he whispered.

Reyes barely turned his face to acknowledge him. “Whatever, Blondie.”

Jack glared at him. “It's Morrison.”

Reyes turned back to his book. “Already forgot your name.”

“ Now Morrison!”

Jack straightened up, lifting his chin. He walked down the aisle proudly. A soldier didn't fear ghost stories. He ignored the twinge of unease as he walked out the door into dusk-lighted forest. The transport door hissed closed behind him and rumbled away, leaving him alone with a program officer. The woman was dead-faced, he couldn't read anything from her.

“ Duffle, ground.”

Jack slung his bag to his feet.

“ Empty your pockets.”

Jack pulled out a few ration bars he had for snacks, but everything else was in his bag. He dropped them on the duffle.

“ Your mission,” the woman began, her voice as dead as her facial expressions. “Is to retrieve as many trophies from other recruits and make it back to base. For everything you steal from someone else, you'll receive a point. The cadet with the most points wins. The only rule is no killing.”

Jack wanted to laugh. Fuck Reyes and his damn story! It was a training exercise.

“ Are you clear about your mission, cadet?”

“ Sir, yes, Sir."  
  
A blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling. The ground smashed into his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't care what Jack denies, I 100% believe that he was a boy scout. And I would be the first to follow him in the Zombie Apocalypse.

He woke to darkness. He tested his limbs. Nothing broken, but his ankles and wrists were tied. He shook his head. It throbbed. Something had been pulled over it. Jack smiled. Now this was more like it! He rolled over onto his stomach, inch worming his knees under him so he could lift his head and shoulders, shaking the bag off.

It dropped away. Sunlight streamed down through a thick canopy of green. He blinked, turning his face away until his eyes adjusted. He must have been out all night. He took stock of his surroundings. Trees everywhere. There was no road the transport could have used. He must have been moved by whoever bound and bagged him. He laughed. Now  _ this _ felt like super soldier training.

He lay down, rolling onto his back and bringing his knees up to his chest. His bound fingers were a little cold and stiff, but warmed up after a few moments of pulling at his ankle restraints. He kicked off the ropes and rolled to his feet. The ones on his hands were going to be a little more difficult.

Stretching his cramped muscles, he took a moment to assess. His duffel was gone. Couldn't say he wasn't surprised. That meant he had to fend for himself. He grinned. Finally, he had the edge. All the other recruits were city boys, probably never even camped in their life. Sure, Jack might not be able to find decent food downtown, but here, it was the other way around. Score for the Indiana farm boy.

His wrists chafed, reminding him before he could do anything, he needed to get free. He looked around the ground. Nothing useful. He didn't have to wander far. A decent sized rock with a less than dull edge let him rub through the ropes enough to get them off. He wondered if anyone else had got free this fast. A mental picture of Reyes bound on the ground came to him. That would teach him to be such a jerk. He shook it off.

Getting out of restraints was basic stuff. Of course, that had been done indoors, with a drill Sergeant screaming at you while medics stood off in the corner. This was a different beast.

Best get the lay of the land. He found a tree he could scale and scrambled up, fingers getting scraped and cut, boots kicking off bark as he hauled himself up. It was invigorating  _ doing _ something for a change. Not just sitting in a lab. He hadn't climbed a tree in ages, but it came back fast. Hunting trips with friends, setting up tree blinds. Maybe that's what he should do. No. He didn't have any way to chop a tree and make planks. Not to mention, how was he going to haul anything up? He climbed until the branches beneath his boots started to creak under his weight.

The view was beautiful. He was in a lush, green valley, untouched by humans. Well, almost untouched. South, he could see a stark-gray concrete building. Base no doubt. And wafting up through the trees, there were several tails of smoke. He scoffed. Idiots, giving away their position. It wasn't really that cold. Maybe fifty, fifty-five. City boys.

Water first. There was no lake or river visible, but for a forest to be this green, it had to have water and plenty of it. Maybe it rained a lot. That would mean he needed a way to gather and store it. Shelter next. There were some hills to the west. It should shelter him from the worst of the elements. There could be a spring there, with a stream. If he could get that, he wouldn't have to worry about storing water.

Something hanging in a nearby tree caught his eye. He grinned. A duffel bag was strung up, nearly hidden by leaves. No way anyone could find it from the ground.

It didn't take him long to get it down. It wasn't his personal duffel. It looked to be ready packed. Inside was a map, a compass, blanket, a handful of ration bars, a canteen full of water, and an old rifle with some ammo. Jack pondered it for a moment. It was an old, single shot pump-action. No good for combat, but then, the rule was no killing. Hunting then. This would make things a hell of a lot easier. He laughed, wondering how many of the city boys thought to look up. Consulting the map showed him a small spring nestled in the hills he'd spied earlier. He shouldered his pack and rifle, then moved out.

Early in the afternoon he got where he was going. The forest had been devoid of other recruits, they were probably all busy licking their wounds and chasing their own tails. Reyes' dumb ghost story probably wasn't helping their mental states. Jack rolled his eyes. He'd heard that same story plenty of times around campfires. The lost hunting party, the vanished tourists. There were a million variations, Reyes had just tweaked it to fit the situation.

Maybe the other had done Jack a favor. With all these idiots running scared in the woods, it might make them easier to steal from. He was so going to win this. He found the stream, and several deer paths. Good. At least there was evidence of something to hunt. Now for shelter.

There was some good undergrowth to camouflage the little camp he set up. Some downed branches turned into a passable roof that would keep the worst of the rain off. A few stones made sturdy fire-ring. Jack made sure to stow his gear where it was hidden encase anyone blundered into his camp. Without having to worry about food or water, he gathered up some fuel for fires and stacked it neatly in the undergrowth, well away from the fire-ring but still close by.

He looked over his camp. Small, inconspicuous, hidden. There was access to water, deer paths which meant he'd have food. Not at all bad for day one. He contemplated taking a nap since he could. But decided he was already on a roll, why ruin it? He tucked the compass and map in his pockets, and found a clearing and with another tree he could climb. No more duffles sadly, but he had a clear view of the entire valley. He smoothed the map down on his knee, taking compass readings, and marking on the map where base was, where each tail of smoke seemed to originate from. At least fifteen fires dotted around the valley.  
  
Grinning, Jack folded the map and put it away. He'd get them tonight, when they were still disoriented, maybe starving, and exhausted. Easy pickings. He could taste the win already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter I know. I wanted to show Jack in his natural element, the element of getting shit done. This is setting things up, so don't worry, things will pick up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's suffering begins.

Waiting was the hardest part. He wanted it to be dark before he crept out. For one, most of these city boys wouldn't dare wander around the woods at night. They'd build fires out in the open, making them easy to find. For another, it'd be easier not to get caught. He didn't want to get into any scuffles on night one.

He chewed a ration bar slowly, letting the sun warm his face as it took its sweet time going down. It'd been years since he camped out, but he was grateful for his upbringing. Sure the city was nice, but learning to survive was more practical. To pass the time, he filled his canteen with water and cleaned up in the stream.

Finally, the shadows grew long and he could get under way. Tonight, he wanted to hit the farthest points from his shelter and work his way back. He probably wouldn't get too many tonight, but despite all his advantages, he still didn't know the lay of the land. Who knew how many others found care packages. Or what was in them. Knives, handguns, some kind of toxic spray. It made sense in a way. If this was training for being behind enemy lines, you never knew what you were going to stumble into. So, until Jack was sure he had the upper hand, stealth would be his best bet.

Slinging the canteen over one shoulder, the rifle over the other, he headed north-north-west toward the farthest smoke points.

The first two were so easy it was child's play. One recruit had his jacket hung on a tree limb to dry. Another had taken off his boots to treat blisters. All Jack had to do was wait until they wandered off to take a piss or passed out. He snuck the trophies away without a fight and moved on. The third was a little harder. Apparently they'd also found a duffle. The recruit had all but curled up in the bag, trying fitfully to sleep. It took some time and patience on Jack's part to slide in and wiggle the compass out from under them. Having a backup never hurt.

Slinging his new trophies over his shoulders, he headed back to camp. No use being greedy. There were over forty other recruits to steal from, he'd get to them soon enough. False dawn colored the horizon. He was wondering if he'd get extra points for stealing something from everyone when he stumbled upon another camp.

Calling it a camp was generous. It was one recruit with his back to a tree, legs pulled up to his chest for warmth and a tiny twig fire at his feet. Jack paused in a shadow. He'd already got three points. Stopping for a fourth could leave him out in the open during the day, tired. And with dawn on the way, he wanted to be back in his hidden camp, sleeping away while the others struggled through their second day. Well, it couldn't hurt to see who it was, right?

Creeping closer, Jack moved around the tree for a better look. All balled up, whoever it was looked small and lost. Jack pitied them, even though he knew he shouldn't. They were enemies after all. Still, it felt mean to think of this kid, no older than Jack himself, lost in a forest when he was no doubt an urban jungle native. Jack thought he'd spare him. After all, he didn't seem to have a duffle, nothing to help him out. He looked to only have the gray hoodie he was bundled up in. Poor kid. He was probably freezing. Besides, Jack rationalized, it didn't look like he had anything easy to steal anyways. He rounded the tree, skirting just a few feet away.

He froze. In the feeble light the dying fire gave off, he could see better. What he thought was short, dark hair was really a black beanie. Holy shit! It was Reyes! The pity and charity he felt melted away. Here was a golden opportunity. The star of their class, the guy everyone was afraid of, huddled under a tree sleeping. Reyes was the most senior recruit. He should have been calming everyone's fears on that transport, not being the fucking jerk that scared a bunch of kids to death. Jack hated bullies. Reyes deserved to get something stolen on his first night. And Jack knew just what to take.

But it wasn't going to be easy. Reyes was still military and the cold probably kept him from sleeping deep. Jack quietly laid down his trophies, canteen, and gun. Rolling up his sleeves, he crept toward the other, one slow foot in front of the other. Luckily, there were no twigs to snap, and the floor was strewn with a soft bed of leaves and pine needles, muffling his footfalls. As he drew alongside the other cadet, a little voice in the back of his head told him that this was going to bite him in the ass later. Reyes was top of the class for a reason, he had nearly two years more experience. What was he, the runt of the class, doing taking on the big dog? He pushed those thoughts aside. He wasn't a runt, and Reyes wasn't all powerful. He smirked. Just look how David and Goliath turned out.

Slowly, he reached up, taking his time not to move too fast. If Reyes woke up, there was no doubt he'd kick the shit out of Jack. Then he'd be down his trophies, his rifle, and have to nurse bruises. There was no way in Hell he was letting this go sideways. His fingertips brushed the back of the beanie. It was warm against his chilled fingers. Carefully, he felt for a patch of material that wasn't plastered to the other boy's head. There wasn't much to work with. Reyes really had that thing on tight. He probably pulled it down when the cold got to his ears. Undaunted, Jack tailed his fingers down to the back, pinching the hem and slowly working it up.

Reyes grumbled something into his knees. Jack froze like his life depended on him becoming a statue. Maybe it did. Reyes' hand came up. Jack jerked his away just in time. Reyes scratched the back of his neck absently—pushing the beanie up—and then tucked his hand back into his lap out of the cold. Grinning like an idiot, Jack waited to make sure the other was asleep again before reaching out and working the now loose beanie up. His thoughts on the transport came back. He was going to find out what exactly Reyes was hiding under this thing. Maybe he was bald, or better yet, was already losing his hair. The thought nearly made Jack laugh as he slowly worked it back and forth, easing it up. That would serve him right.

Finally, the beanie came off. A mass of ebony curls fell free. They cascaded like dark water, flowing down over the other boy's face to his chin. Jack's heart simultaneously sped up and stopped. Oh God! Reyes was hot!

Jack was frozen in place, beanie in hand, just starting at the other boy. The dark locks were shinny and soft, and not really curly, but just curly enough to give him an even more exotic look. Against his handsome, nutmeg skin tone, Reyes should have been plastered on teen girl magazines, with his smoldering brown eyes staring at you from under headlines like “best shade of lipstick to mark your man's collar.” Or walking the red carpet to the frenzied shouts of his rabid fangirls. With looks like that, he shouldn't be military, huddled under a tree in a forest. Jack's heart beat wildly, betraying him. Surely it was so loud it'd wake Reyes any second. His ears burned and suddenly the forest was too hot.

He crushed the beanie in his hand and pulled it to his chest. Still he didn't leave. He ordered his feet to move, demanded they listen, but he was rooted to the spot. A blush bloomed on his cheeks. No! No he wasn't going to do this. He was not going to develop a crush on the class jerk. He was eighteen-damn years old. Apparently the rest of him didn't get the memo. His pulse was still racing, his cheeks still burned. Worst of all, his hand wanted desperately to comb through those curls. His guts tightened like he was going to throw up. He brushed his hand through his own hair instead. It wasn't the same, but at least he wasn't going to wake Reyes and get the tar beat out of him. Shit. He needed to go. He tucked the beanie under his arm, wishing he'd never removed it, but glad he had. He crept away like the thief he was, scooped up his supplies and left.

Back at camp, he tucked his three trophies in a hole that he covered with brush, just encase someone did raid his camp, they wouldn't find anything extra. But the beanie... he turned it over in his palms. If he ran straight to base right now, no way he would win the challenge, but he wouldn't be a runt anymore. He'd be the guy that took the prized possession from the biggest, most experienced guy in the program. That would earn him a hell of a lot of respect from his peers and teachers. He should....

He ran his thumbs over the still warm garment. A private thrill went up his spine. No one had ever seen Reyes without this.

Not only was he going to win this challenge by a freaking landslide, he was going to bring down Reyes a peg or two while doing it. He tucked the beanie in his belt. It wasn't leaving his side. And not because it reminded him of those soft, curly locks. No. He wouldn't let it be that. He'd been too lucky and worked too hard to let some idiot blunder in and find it. This wasn't leaving his sight until he put it in the hands of a superior officer for everyone to see.

Crawling into his shelter, he pulled some brush over the small entrance. He wrapped himself up in the blanket and lay down. Pleased with himself didn't even begin to describe it. His first day was a stunning success. Food, water, shelter, and four trophies. He should be pleased and rest well. But sleep remained elusive. When he did close his eyes, black water flowed across his vision.

 

The sun shone, the sky was a beautiful sapphire-blue. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. Jack closed his eyes and sighed, content. A hand that wasn't his brushed through his hair, caressing it.

“What's on your mind, handsome?”

Jack opened his eyes. Reyes leaned over him, those beautiful black curls swaying in the breeze. Jack's mouth went dry. His head was in Reyes' lap. They were sitting in the shade of an old willow tree. His heart raced like it was trying to beat right out of his chest.

“Strong silent type, hm?” Reyes' mouth quirked up in a handsome smile. God he looked good smiling. He leaned down, nearly brushing noses with him. “You're blushing.”

“I-I am?” Jack managed to force himself to say.

Reyes laughed at the crack in his voice. When he stopped, he was smirking. Not the cruel smirk he usually wore, but a mischievous one. One that made his eyes sparkle like polished tiger's eye. No... that wasn't quite the right color. They were darker brown than that.

“Do you want to kiss me Jack?” he asked.

Jack's cheeks burned. “No! O-Of course not. You're a jerk. You don't like people. You'd pry punch me if I tried.”

Reyes ran his long fingers through his hair, letting it dance unchecked across his cheek in the breeze. “You never know. I might like it.”

“I think if you would, you'd have a boyfriend already.” Those full lips, the sexy hair. Someone already had to have a claim on him.

Reyes looked at him, those brown eyes smoldering and melting Jack's spine. “Maybe I like blonds.”

Jack's heart fluttered. “I'm blond.”

Reyes laughed, leaning down and brushing their noses together again. “So you are.”

What the Hell. Jack reached up, running his fingers through the jet-black locks, letting them slide through his fingers like wisps of smoke. Warmed by the sun, they felt velvety soft. He pulled Reyes down, touching their lips together. They were as soft as his hair. His heart pounded, his blood raced. Reyes kissed him back.

 

 

Jack woke with a start. Trashing out of the blanket, he sat up, breathing hard. Where? It came back to him. Woods, wilderness, training, trophies. His hand went to his belt. The soft beanie was still there. That part had been real. He put a hand to his lips. Oh God he could still feel the dream lingering on them. He scrubbed his mouth against his arm, getting rid of the tingling. But the feverish feeling didn't go away. His heart was still pounding like a drum in his chest. His fingers still remembered the soft caress of hair sliding between them.

No. No he was not going to let this happen. Crushes were for middle-school. He was eighteen years old, an adult, not a child. He needed to master himself.

“Reyes is an asshole,” he said out loud, trying to convince himself. “He's not your type. He's anything but.” Reyes was quiet, sullen, and quick with insults. He couldn't even be bothered to remember Jack's name. Jack wanted someone sweet, kind. Someone whom he could spend his life with.  
  
So then why couldn't he force himself to forget the way his very soul had burned when Reyes kissed him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue the OH NO, HE'S HOOOT! Squidward meme here.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack had never been scared to go to sleep before. He wasn't worried of being found. As long as he stayed quiet, he was confident no one would find his hidden shelter. No. What scared him was what would happen if he closed his eyes again.

 

Would Reyes still be there... waiting? Or was the dream a one-time thing, brought on by stress and the shock of finding out a program-mate was good looking? Why was that all that seemed to matter to him right now? He should be attracted to personality, not flashing eyes, soft hair, and full lips.

 

Jack put his head in his hands and rubbed his face. He needed to sleep. He was tired, exhausted really, but he didn't know if he could handle another dream. It was distracting and what he needed to do was focus. They hadn't given them a time limit for this. But the longer it went on, the more recruits would drop out and head into base, making finding trophies harder, and soon all that would be left would be the ones that knew what they were doing. He needed to press his advantage now, while the easy ones were still out there.

 

But Reyes was making that difficult. Jack rolled onto his back, looking up between the green leaves at the late morning light above him. He thought he had his hormones in check. Yeah maybe he had been a late bloomer and the last one to hit puberty, but still, that had been years ago. Plenty of time to get himself under control. No one else had ever made him feel like this before. And he'd met some lookers in his time.

 

He put his arm over his eyes. Damn it. Reyes was getting his revenge and he wasn't even here. His fingers strayed to his belt, brushing the beanie. Why couldn't he stop himself? Why was he torturing himself like this? Sure okay maybe he'd noticed a time or two that Reyes was pretty good looking, but nothing ever on the level about fantasizing about him! He didn't feel that way about anyone else in the program, and there were plenty of good looking guys in the bunch.

 

Maybe it was something about the way Reyes had been curled up and vulnerable last night. He wasn't spitting insults or keeping to himself. And that hair framing his boyish face, the way he looked so young and innocent, like one of those little angels in paintings. Jack snorted. But Reyes wasn't an angel, he needed to remember that. God he hoped this was a phase that was going to pass, and fast.

 

He finally did manage to take a nap. But even though he didn't remember dreaming, his lips tingled like he'd been kissed.

 

A distraction. That's what he needed. Something to take his mind off... things. It was late afternoon, going on dusk. There should be some game animals about. Maybe a squirrel or rabbit that he could roast fast before getting to the nightly chore of collecting trophies. His thumb caressed the beanie in his belt for a while. Nope. He rolled up into a sitting position and put every thought away that wasn't about hunting up something to eat. Distraction engaged.

 

He left camp, careful to conceal his comings and goings. Rifle over his shoulder, he put a good distance between himself and camp before he started hunting. The rifle would make a lot of noise, draw a lot of attention. But he hoped the gunshot might scare any curious wanderers off. A mile or two from camp, he paused on a clearing near the top of one of the hills. He could see for miles. Laying on the horizon was a thick blanket of thunderheads. Rain tonight. Jack unslung his rifle. Better make dinner fast.

 

He got lucky, flushing out a cottontail and taking it down in one shot. The rifle bucked in his hands. His shoulder was going to be a sore come morning. But he preferred a rifle to anything else. A rifle was versatile. Close or long range, you could hit just about anything without sacrificing power or accuracy. Versatility was key to winning any battle. He collected his catch and used a sharp stone to slit it open and clean it. He brought the carcass back, starting a fire and letting it cook over it.

 

By the time it was done, the thunderheads had rolled closer, bringing on a faster night. Jack took a bite out of a haunch as he studied his map. He was only going to hit one or two targets tonight before the rain came. They might have moved on, or, if they were smart, made shelter. But then, he wasn't sure if anyone could see the clouds piling up in the sky like a vengeful wave from the valley floor. Maybe he would have a lot of wet, angry, confused cadets to pilfer from. He ate half his rabbit, leaving the rest for later. Tucking the map away where it wouldn't get wet, Jack headed off into the night, hoping he'd be back before the rain set in.

 

He wasn't as successful as the night before, but he still brought back another trophy. Jack crawled back into his shelter, shaking off the rain and more than pleased that there wasn't a drop of water inside.

 

Exhausted, he shed his wet shirt, hanging it over a branch so it could dry while he wrapped the blanket around himself. A flash of lightning lit up the world. Jack counted. A few seconds later, thunder rumbled. Looked like the valley was in for a wet night. Wrapping the blanket snuggly around himself, he laid now. This time, he had no trouble falling asleep.

  
  


Rain pattered on his cheek and Jack cracked his eyes open. Droplets trickled down from the branches of an old willow tree, but he was sheltered from most of the rain beyond its shadow. He loved the rain. It was relaxing, soothing. He closed his eyes again and leaned into the warmth against his back.

 

“Comfortable, Blondie?” Reyes asked.

 

Jack's eyes flew open. He was leaning against Reyes' chest, his head tucked in the nape of his neck. Oh no! Not again. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he muttered.

 

“Leaving me so soon?” Reyes ran his fingertips down Jack's cheek.

 

Jack's will evaporated. “No....” he mumbled.

 

“Good.”

 

Reyes leaned his cheek on Jack's head. Jack's heart pounded like he was running for his life.

 

“Do you like the rain?” Reyes asked, his lips fluttering against Jack's hair.

 

He nodded numbly.

 

“Me too.” Reyes smiled, his eyes half closing. “It's perfect for snuggling.”

 

Jack's throat went dry and his mind blank. “Um....”

 

“Unless you want to do more than snuggle.”

 

“No!” Jack tried to sound convincing. “Snuggling is great.”

 

“Are you sure?” Reyes' fingertips trailed down Jack's chest, brushing his nipple. “It gets cold when it rains, we need to keep warm.”

 

Jack pushed himself away, heartbeat battering his eardrums. “N-No. This is a dream. I should wake up.”

 

“If it's a dream,” Reyes said, following him. “What's the harm?”

 

Okay. Totally had him there. Jack bit his lip.

 

Reyes leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Jack very nearly crumbled where he sat. He was a shaking mess, and not because of the cold. If anything, he was on fire. What the hell, it was his dream right? He let Reyes pull him back and kiss him. His hands went to the curly hair, running through it, combing it back from the handsome face.

 

Reyes smiled against his lips. “Got a thing for my hair do you?” His hands drifted down Jack's torso to his thighs, running between them.

 

Jack's breath hiccuped and he pulled away. He shouldn’t—it wasn’t very gentlemanly to just—God they’d only known each other a few—fuck but Reyes was so hot!

 

“I know it's been a while,” Reyes said, running the backs of his knuckles over Jack's groin. “I'll go easy on you. This time.”

 

Jack moaned. God it _had_ been a while. He wanted it bad. Reyes chuckled, kissing his lips again. Then he sprawled out on the grass, pulling Jack down on-top of him. Jack positively whined when he found himself between Reyes’ long, well muscled legs, their hips teasingly brushing against each other. He blushed.

 

Reyes reached up, biting Jack's lower lip. “Come on, _Blondie_ ,” he whispered, sounding breathless. “Warm me up.”

 

Jack slid his hands under Reyes’ shirt, feeling hot, shy, eager, and ashamed all at the same time. He let his fingers fan out, touching everything he could of the other. God Reyes was ripped! All muscle and velvety soft skin. He bent down, kissing the pert buds of his nipples. Reyes chuckled, kissing his cheek as he undid Jack’s pants, slowly pulling them down. Oh man, Rayes’ hands were big and warm around his cock, stroking, cupping, teasing. Jack moaned, jerking his hips forward. His cock slid along the fingers, already hard and leaking. Jesus, it really had been a while. He couldn’t wait any longer.

 

Reyes tugged on Jack’s hips, moaning. “Fuck me, Blondie.” He wrapped his naked legs around Jack’s hips. “I want you bad!”

 

Who was he to say no to that? Mindlessly, he slid his tongue into Reyes’ mouth and got a broken moan in response. Reyes bucked his hips, brushing their cocks together. Jack hissed, nearly losing it at the contact. He couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled back, fumbling in a mix of nerves and desire to line them up. He didn’t care about condoms or lube as he slid into the already slick entrance. All he cared about was the silken heat tightening around him, welcoming him and _fuck_ the way Reyes’ back arched off the ground!

 

Kissing that eager mouth that bit at his lips, he snapped his hips forward roughly, desperately, fucking Reyes into the ground. Reyes moaned, bucking with him, raven-black hair sex-tossed across his face as he gasped Jack's name over and over and over. Jack whinned, the pressure in his belly built with each thrust. Reyes sobbed his name like it was a prayer.

 

“I’m—” Jack panted. “Oh God I’m—” His fingers clawed at the dirt and the small of Reyes’ bowed back. “Fuck! Reyes! I’m gonna—”

  
  


He woke, heart racing, rain pattering on his shelter roof, with a mess in his pants.

 

“Oh God,” he mumbled into his hands.

  
He had a huge fucking crush on Reyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reyes doesn't even have to be there to get his revenge on Jack. That is power.


	5. Chapter 5

The rain stopped about mid-morning. Jack felt disgusting. Two days worth of dirt and sweat clung to his body, and the mess from his wet dream... he didn't even want to think about it. Every time he did, he blushed. He was on a freaking training mission. God what was he thinking, crushing on the worst possible guy at the worst possible time? What had changed? Sure, he'd noticed Reyes was pretty cute before. But why was he suddenly fantasizing about him? Was it the exotic, furthest from rural Indiana looks? The dark skin and hair together that pushed him over the edge? Was it the long hair? Long hair was hot on guys. Maybe it was the mystery. He didn't even know Reyes' first damn name. Only that his tag told the world it started with G. He bit his lip and dug his nails into his thigh. Nope. No more thinking about Reyes or there would be another mess.

 

God he needed to get cleaned up.

 

When the sun finally decided to show its face, he crawled out of his shelter and slunk down to the stream. He peeled off his clothes, rinsing himself off with ice cold water. That certainly helped the situation. The ice bath helped cool the fire rushing through his veins, but he could still feel it, smoldering in his gut, just waiting to catch and turn into a wildfire again. He tromped back to camp, setting his clothes in the sun and wrapping himself in the blanket.

 

What was he going to do? At least if training had been vigorous physical conditioning it would take his mind off things. But alone? In the woods? With nothing to do but think? He hoped his clothes dried fast so he could find something to occupy his hands before they found something on their own.

 

After a half an hour, his shirt was more or less dry, and his pants and boxers a little wet, but he was going to have to deal with that. If he didn't move soon, he was going to crawl back into the shelter and jerk off. He had to do something productive and salvage at least part of the day! Hungry. Yeah, that was it, he was hungry. Hunting was sure to take his mind of Reyes. Hastily, he dressed, gathered his rifle, and headed out.

 

He was at least thinking clear enough to pick a new direction to hunt in. Try as he might to throw himself into the process of sneaking, waiting, focusing, and following tracks, Reyes still managed to sneak into his thoughts. The dark hair hanging free, that stupid, sexy smirk on his face. That skin-tight, army-green shirt hugging his chest and arms and—damn it. Maybe he should have jerked off.

 

Something moved in the trees a few yards out. He froze. Whatever it was, he was downwind. He brought the rifle up painfully slow. A wedge-shaped head with two big ears appeared from the gloom between trees. A deer! Jack breathed slow, praying the wind didn't change. Thank God he'd already loaded the old rifle and pumped it.

 

Cautiously, the deer took a step out of the shadows. It sniffed, turning its horned head back and forth, looking for danger. Jack lined up his shot, breathing slow. Just a step or two more. He wanted a nice, clean shot. He couldn't afford to run after it if he only wounded it. The buck took another step. Jack's finger rested on the trigger, waiting. He channeled all his training into picking the right moment.

 

The buck took another slow, careful step, bringing its heart into Jack's sights. The rifle bucked, the shot ringing in the still morning air. The buck twitched. For a horrible second, Jack thought he'd missed. The deer fell to its side and didn't move again.

 

Jack grinned, standing from his hiding place. Yes! Just like a hunting trip back home. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and sauntered out. Now he was set. He could use the hide for another blanket, the horns and bones for tools, not to mention eating like a king tonight. He squatted by his kill. Only a four point buck. Nothing to brag about, but hey, beggars couldn't be choosers. He stood up, wondering how exactly he was going to clean and haul the damn thing by himself when movement out of the corner of his eye made him whirl around.

 

Someone stood several yards behind him in the shadow of a tree. Shit! He hadn't reloaded. His hand when to his pocket, feeling for a bullet. He froze when the person stepped into the light.

 

It was Reyes!

 

He looked awful. His fatigues were dirty and torn. Everything about him was soaked. He must have been out in the rainstorm all night. Or maybe curled up in a bush to avoid the worst of it. Jack's breath came faster. The long, curly hair was plastered to Reyes' face, bits of leaves and twigs snarled in it. Dark bags hung heavy under his eyes. Black stubble covered his chin and upper lip. Jack's pulse skyrocketed. God he was even hotter scruffy.

 

They stood there, staring at each other for a moment. Jack wondered if he should say something. He hadn't exactly planned what he was going to do if he met another recruit out in the open.

 

Reyes' gaze lowered to Jack's belt. The brown eyes suddenly lit up with hellfire. “Blondie!”

 

That... didn't at all sound like the way he'd said it in his dream. Jack's hand strayed to his hip. Oh shit! He still had the beanie! Reyes came flying at him. In a blink, the yards between them dwindled to almost nothing.

 

Jack turned and fled.

 

Reyes had a least thirty pounds on him, was a minimum four inches taller, and Jack had a feeling the raging fury in his eyes more than made up for him being tired and hungry. Jack would have rather taken his chances with a wild bull over tangling with the man chasing him. He could probably reason with the bull.

 

Jack sprinted for cover, adrenaline and—oh God! Arousal!—pounding through his veins. He wove between the trees, casting nervous glances back over his shoulder. Shit, shit, shit Reyes was right on his ass! And not in the way he wanted. Fingers clawed at his arm, narrowly missing him. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Reyes was going to _kill_ him! A crack in the ground suddenly opened up into a ten foot ditch. He could jump or swerve. That split second hesitation was all Reyes needed.

 

Strong arms wrapped around him from behind as Reyes tackled him. They hurtled off the precipice together. Jack thought Reyes might have broken his back. They hit the dirt, gravity rolling them down in a tangle of arms, legs, shoulders, and elbows. Somehow, Jack managed to hold onto the rifle. He slammed down one final time on his back, the wind bashed out of him. And then Reyes was on top of him.

 

The bigger recruit snarled, grabbing Jack by the throat with one hand, his other holding up a fist sized rock. “ _¡Hijo de puta! ¡Devuélveme mi gorro!_ _”_

 

Heat rippled up Jack’s spine. What the fuck? Jack opened his mouth to ask him just that when the rock came down at his face. Jack rolled away, breaking the hold on him as the rock slammed down into dirt.

 

 _“_ _¡Pedazo de mierda inútil! ¡Te voy a matar!_ _”_

 

Oh God, was that... Spanish? A not so subtle thrill went through him. He felt his cheeks color against his will. “Whoa!” he shouted, putting up his hands. “What the hell are you saying?” And would he say it again? Slower… and maybe in his ear.

 

That seemed to bring Reyes up short. He stopped mid-lunge, shaking his head. “I mean, you mother fucker! Give me my fucking hat!”

 

“Was that Spanish?” Jack asked.

 

Reyes swung at Jack's head. He rolled away, swinging the butt of the rifle and knocking the rock out of the other boy's hand.

 

“Slow down!” God he wanted to hear it again. He'd take a rock to the head to hear it. Reyes’ voice sounded so good. “Let's talk about this!”

 

Reyes tackled him. Jack tried to roll him off, but Reyes wasn't going anywhere this time. Both of his hands squeezed Jack's throat until he saw stars. Jack tapped Reyes' elbow like they were taught in basic. He couldn't breathe! Let go! Reyes didn't.

 

“You little bitch,” Reyes seethed. “You think you're tough shit?”

 

Jack slammed his hand against Reyes' elbow. He was not into choke-play! His vision dimmed. He clawed wildly at the other's elbow. Holy shit, Reyes was _really_ going to kill him! He held onto Reyes' arm, trying to look up at him. “A-Air!”

 

Suddenly the pressure and weight on him was gone. Gasping like a fish, Jack sucked in as much air as he could handle. Sputtering and coughing, he rolled onto his side. Yeah... his dream was nothing like this.

 

“My hat, Blondie. Now.”

 

Jack looked up. Reyes stood over him, hand outstretched. He looked tired, angry... maybe a little scared? Definitely a little scared. Of what exactly? If Jack gave him back the beanie, would he find out? Would he see him again? His mind started racing. He had to hear that Spanish again. His life depended on it.

  
“I have a better idea,” he said, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly how Jack pictured their reunion going... but he's also not exactly going to complain. 
> 
> Translations, thanks to the wonderful and kind Midna_Ronoa! (You are the BEST, at translations and plot bunnies!)
> 
> ¡Hijo de puta! ¡Devuélveme mi gorro! - Motherfucker! Give me back my hat!  
> ¡Pedazo de mierda inútil! ¡Te voy a matar! - Good for nothing piece of shit! I'll kill you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some violence. Jack does some more hunting and has to kill Bambi. There's a bit of blood. Nothing gory, just fact of life.

Reyes just looked at him. Maybe no one had ever  _ not _ done what he demanded before. Jack used that moment of confusion to press his idea.

 

“Look, you're exhausted, soaked, and my guess: starving. I've got a deer I can't carry back alone.” Shit... what was he doing? This was a terrible idea. “You help me carry it, you can eat as much as you could possibly want.” Crap, had he just invited Reyes to a fucking dinner date?

 

Confusion and surprise took turns crossing Reyes' face. “What?”

 

Jack sat up. Shit this was the last thing he needed. “It's simple. Reyes carries deer, Jack cooks deer, Reyes eats deer. Sound good?”

 

Suspicion and distrust took over Reyes' face. “Is this a fucking trap? What the fuck is your angle?”

 

“I just spelled it out for you,” Jack said, pushing himself up to his feet. “If anything, I should be demanded it. You just tried to choke me out.”

 

“You stole from me.”

 

“Yeah, I did,” Jack said, taking the beanie from his belt. Time to show a little trust. “I'll give it back, if you help me.”

 

Reyes took a threatening step forward. “And why the fuck shouldn't I just beat you to death and take it back?”

 

Jack smiled at him, even though just about all of his brain was telling him he should run. “Have I mentioned I've got a pretty sweet fire and a dry place to sleep?”

 

That brought Reyes up short again. He searched Jack's face. Damn. They were so close, Jack got a really good look at his eyes. Shit, they were such a deep shade of brown it was easy to get lost in them.

 

“Why?” Reyes snarled.

 

Well shit. Good question. It's not like he could just come out and say 'because I want nothing more than to keep staring at you, and my wet dreams pale in comparison to the real deal.' He opted to say something else. “Because, two are better than one. I think we could make a great team.”

 

“We're enemies,” Reyes said, but he didn't lunge for the beanie. “I work alone.”

 

Jack just needed a little more bait to reel him in. “Hey, that's fine if you want. But I'm from Indiana. I've been camping and hunting all my life. You'll notice I am not soaked to my bones, and I'm not starving. Seems like I know what I'm doing out here doesn't it, City boy?”

 

Reyes' lips twitched like he wanted to snarl.

 

Jack shrugged. “They said no rules right? So that means we're not really enemies. We could team up. The way I see it, you can take your hat, get soaked again, probably starve to death. Or... we can pool our talents and see what happens.”

 

Reyes's full lips pursed into a frown. Jack could see the wheels turning in the dark depths of his eyes. He just hoped he came to the right decision.

 

“I want my hat first,” he said, extending his hand again.

 

Jack shook it. “I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

 

“I don't have friends, Blondie,” Reyes said. “Hat.”

 

“First things first, my name is Jack.” He let go of Reyes’ hand, putting the beanie in it.

 

“Don't care.” Reyes jammed the hat down over his head, stuffing all the luscious locks up into it so it covered everything.

 

What a waste. Why did he bother with the hat at all? Jack slung the rifle over his shoulder. “Come on, deer's back this way.”

 

He took a few steps, then looked over his shoulder. Reyes hadn't followed him. Shit. Had he given up the best trophy for nothing?

 

“If this is a trap, I'll really fucking kill you this time,” Reyes said.

 

Jack tilted his head to one side. For all his strength and intelligence, Reyes was more skittish than a deer. He smiled, warm, friendly, reassuring. “I think that if I wanted to trap you, I wouldn't invite you to dinner at my place. Now are you coming or what?”

 

After a moment of hesitation, Reyes followed him. Suddenly, he didn't look so confidant, and maybe finally looked the teenager he was. Even without his hair down, Jack found him alluring. Fuck why had he invited his crush to dinner? Did he want Reyes to snap his cock off like a twig? Well he certainly wanted his hands on it again. He flushed and focused on getting back to the deer. Now was not the time to work himself up.

 

Reyes was silent for the trip. He didn't say a word, just hung back a few paces, as if he expected Jack to turn on him at any moment. No conversation, he acted like his normal, anti-social self. It annoyed Jack. Good. Maybe seeing the real Reyes would break this crush.

 

When they got to the deer, Jack set the rifle on the ground and pulled his gutting stone out of his pocket.   
  


“What are you doing?” Reyes finally spoke for the first time in ages.   
  


“Gutting it,” Jack said, pressing the sharp end of the stone into the soft belly.   
  


“You're cutting it open?”

 

The shocked tone made Jack look up at the other boy. Holy shit, Reyes actually looked surprised. “Yeah. This thing is like, two hundred pounds as is. You want to haul that for two miles?”

 

Reyes gave him a blank stare.

 

Hunting 101 time. “Look, you gut the animal, since trust me, you don't want intestines and guts cluttering up your camp. You bleed it, and this baby will come down to around a little over a hundred pounds. That is haul-able. So, you want to have a pile of guts hanging around or not?”

 

Reyes shook his head.

 

“Alright then.” Jack sawed open the belly.

 

The intestines came out in a hot lump, blood rushing out, splashing on his boots.

 

“There that wasn't so—” Jack turned, and found Reyes doubled over, losing his lunch. “ —bad.” Or, what little food he had in him anyways. Well, so much for Reyes being a badass. “You've never seen blood before?”

 

Reyes dry heaved, nothing more coming up. Poor kid pry hadn't eaten in close to three days. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked away from the deer. “I've seen blood before,” he snapped.

 

“Just not this much,” Jack finished for him. He grinned, getting back to work dressing the carcass. “City boy.”

 

Reyes turned, opening his mouth to say something. Jack picked that moment to pull out a fist full of slippery guts. Reyes doubled over again, choking on air.

 

“Could be worse,” Jack said, making sure to be extra chipper. “Could have been a doe and I could be pulling out a half-formed fawn. Had to do that once. Really gross.”

 

“Blondie!” Reyes gasped, spitting bile onto the grass. “Stop fucking talking!”

 

Okay so it wasn't like his dream, but this was fun in its own right. Grossing out the tough talking, street-wise Reyes was hilariously fun. “Call me that again and I'll show you how to pull this thing's brain out of its nose.”

 

Reyes gagged and said nothing more. He looked positively green despite his dark skin. It was about time to relent, before he passed out. Jack finished dressing the deer as best he could with the primitive tools at hand. He waited a few minutes to let a little more blood drain out and then pointed at the hind legs.

 

“You take that end, I'll take the other.”

 

Reyes grimaced, but didn't say anything, he just gathered the back legs, looking ahead and not at the open belly. Jack scooped up his end. Together, they lifted it and, between the two of them, it didn't take much effort to haul.

 

“So, you've never been hunting before,” Jack started. “Never been camping to have enough sense to come in out of the rain. How the hell did you plan on winning this?”

 

“Let's see you survive longer than two fucking seconds in downtown L.A., Farm boy.”

 

Apparently he wasn't getting his name used. But he guessed Farm boy was better than Blondie. For now anyways. “But we're not in L.A. So what was the plan?”

 

“I would have... figured something out,” Reyes said.

 

Jack laughed. “I think you're getting the better end of this deal,” he said. “Not sure how useful you're going to be.”

 

Reyes shot him a dirty look. “I'm very fucking useful.”

 

Jack made a point to look the other over and apprise him. “Maybe. I bet I could teach you a thing or two.” He could practically see the smoke billowing out of the other's ears. “Hey, come on, I'm only teasing.”   
  


“Well don't.”

 

Geeze. So sensitive. Jack wondered if maybe Reyes was standoffish not because he thought he was God's gift to the world, but because deep down, he was really just shy. That made him endearing.

 

“What are you smiling about?” Reyes snapped.

 

“Nothing,” Jack said. “It's just nice to have some company, you know?”

 

“No,” was all Reyes said.

 

Jack tried a few more times to make conversation, but the other would only grunt in response. Maybe nod. It was like he was actively trying to avoid engaging with Jack at all costs. Well, Jack wasn't about to take no for an answer. He was going to break down those walls and see who Reyes really was. His sanity might depend on finding out if the other was worth crushing on.

 

He was taking a risk, showing Reyes his camp, but he was banking on the fact that the other would be too hungry and tired to try anything mean. At least tonight. Maybe tomorrow when they went their separate ways, he'd have to pack up and move his base. But tonight, he had a date.

 

When Jack ordered him to drop the dear, Reyes looked around confused.

 

“Where are we?”

 

“My camp.” Duh.

 

“I don't see anything.”

 

Jack chuckled. “City boy.” He moved aside the brush blocking the entrance and crawled inside.

 

Reyes followed after him. He blinked in the semi-darkness of the shelter. “The hell? It's dry!”

 

“Yeah, kinda the point,” Jack said, getting a fire started.

 

Reyes watched him with interest and seemed shocked when Jack had a little blaze going in a moment. “You a boy scout or something?”

 

Jack wasn't even going to dignify that with a response. “I'm gonna cut up some venison and get it cooking. You make sure this doesn't go out. Think you can handle it?”

 

Reyes shot him another glare.

 

“Just make sure it doesn't go out,” Jack said as he went back out.   
  


He skinned the deer—which took longer than necessary. If only he had a good knife—and started cutting up the good meat. He'd have to hang the thing from a tree so scavengers didn't make off with it in the middle of the night. There was some rope from his old bindings that he could probably salvage. Maybe if Reyes would help, one of them could crawl up the tree and the other could toss the rope. He brought in the slabs of meat to cook

 

He found Reyes curled up in the blanket, fast asleep. The fire had burned so low it was nearly out. Jack grumbled, but found he couldn't be mad. The poor kid had been freezing for two days, spent the night out in a thunderstorm, and then had to watch Bambi get gutted. He was beat, mentally and physically. As mean as he might be, he deserved a break. Jack let him sleep as he put some more branches on the fire and then set the meat on it to roast. He lay down, rubbing his throat that was still a little tender.

  
It was hard to believe a few hours ago Reyes had been choking him, and now, here he was, sleeping next to him. Jack closed his eyes. The challenge might be far from over, but he felt like he'd won something already.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some bonding time. Where in which; Reyes learns what an unrelenting ray of fucking sunshine Jack can be.

When the venison was done roasting, he nudged Reyes awake. Or at least, tried to. The other boy was out hardcore. Jack had to put his hand on the other's shoulder—holy crap did he have massive shoulders that looked too large for him, like he hadn't finish filling out yet—and shake him awake.

 

The first thing Reyes did was grab the beanie and pull it down tight on his head. Then, he blinked. Jack arched an eyebrow, wondering if Reyes was always so slow to wake.

 

“Come on sleepy head. Dinner's ready.”

 

Slowly Reyes pushed back the blanket and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Geeze he must have been  _ out _ -out.

 

“You didn't steal my hat,” he said.

 

“We had a deal,” Jack said, though in truth, he did really want to see those ebony curls again, and  _ might  _ have toyed with the idea of taking it back. Just as a joke of course. He handed Reyes a slab of cooked venison. “Tuck in.”

 

The other boy's nose scrunched as he looked the meat over. “You sure it's cooked all the way? I'm not getting food poisoning out here.”

 

Jack shrugged, taking a bite out of his piece. “You can let it turn into charcoal if you like,” he said through a full mouth.

 

Reyes eyed the meat a moment more, then took a nibble. Skittish. Jack found it unbearably cute. Reyes' appetite suddenly asserted itself and he ripped a huge chunk off, tearing at the meat like a wild animal. Crap, Jack really underestimated how hungry he must be. Reyes had scarfed down his meal in moments, licking his fingers, eyes darting to Jack's hardly touched potion.

 

Ugh. The kid was going to be more work than he thought. Jack sighed, handing over his meal. “Take it.”

 

Without even a thank you, Reyes snatched it away. He seemed to hardly chew. Juice dribbled down his chin and hands. He didn't wipe it away until he'd inhaled the rest of the meat. Then he went about licking his fingers clean, cat-like in his attention to detail. Jack watched the pink tongue flick out, run up a dribble, lap at his bronze-colored skin like—holy shit. Jack looked away, blush burning up his cheeks. Yeah no, he needed to stop watching at once.

 

“Why'd you do that?” Reyes demanded.

 

Oh God had he seen the blush? The way Jack watched his tongue? Shit was he sporting a tent in his pants? “Uh....” Play dumb! “Do what?”

 

Reyes glared at him. “Give me your food. Why'd you do that?”

 

Oh thank God. It was something he could answer. “Because you were hungry and needed more than I did.”

 

Reyes narrowed his eyes. “Oh, so I'm just supposed to believe you did that out of the goodness of your heart? Bullshit. You want something.”

 

“Easy tiger, down boy,” Jack teased. “Geese you're acting like someone can't be nice to you.”

 

“No one's nice for no reason,” Reyes shot back. “There's always strings.”

 

Jack put up his hands. “No strings. I helped you out, you helped me. It's called an agreement. I wanted to be nice.” Maybe they weren't very neighborly where Reyes was from.

 

Reyes continued glaring.

 

“Wow, not very friendly are we?” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “You could at least say thank you when someone is nice to you.”

 

“Why the fuck are you being nice to me?”

 

Tough question. Jack wasn't entirely sure himself. Sure there was the crush part, but he didn't have to be  _ nice _ to the other. He shrugged. “I don't know,” he went with the truth. “You seemed kinda lonely and lost. Like you could use a friend.”

 

“I don't need friends,” Reyes spat. “Everything I need, I can do myself. So take your fucking pity and shove it up your ass.”

 

That right there should have broken any spell Reyes had on him... but Jack couldn't shake the feeling that it was bullshit. Everyone needed a friend. “You know,” he began, “Being self-sufficient is all well and good. But you don't have to step on other people to get what you want. Sometimes, if you work with them, instead of against them, you get what you want and more. Without a fight.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Reyes muttered. “You sound like a fucking holo-vid.”

 

“Yeah maybe,” Jack said. “But you found yourself lost in the woods—”

 

“I wasn't lost.”

 

“—and someone that knows their way around helped you out. Now, what's smarter? Biting the hand that literally just fed you? Or maybe making friends with that person?”

 

Reyes pursed his lips. Jack let him think about that one awhile.

 

“Fine. I'll work with you. But we're not friends.”

 

Jack lit up, beaming. “We'll see about that.”

 

“Stop smiling. It makes you look even dumber, Farm boy.”

 

“Still hungry? Because I mean I could always just roll that carcass down the hill and find something for myself.”

 

Reyes' face lost the slightest bit of color. “Don't!”

 

“Then we'll start with the ground rules. I'm Jack. Not Blondie, not Farm boy.”

 

“I'll call you whatever the fuck I want.”

 

“Alright then, have fun feeding yourself.” Jack made for the exit.

 

Reyes grabbed his wrist. Jack turned back, looking over his shoulder.

 

“Fine,” Reyes growled. “Jack.” He spat the name like it physically hurt him to pronounce the single syllable.

 

“Awesome.” Jack settled back down. “And what do you prefer?”

 

“Reyes.”

 

Damn. He was hoping to find out what the G stood for. “Fine.” He extended his hand. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Hi. I'm Jack. Sorry for taking your beanie.” Even though he had absolutely no regrets about doing so.

 

The other looked at him, looked at the hand, his lips still drawn in a hard frown. Geeze, didn't it hurt to frown so much? Finally, Reyes put his hand in Jack's. It was rough, callused, but warm and strong.

 

“I'm Reyes. I....” He huffed. “I didn't mean to choke you out so hard back there.”

 

Jack figured that was as close to any apology he was ever going to get. “Water under the bridge,” he said. “You were tired and hungry. I'd go a little crazy too.” Look at them, breaking down barriers already.

 

“I'm still hungry,” Reyes muttered.

 

“Tell you what,” Jack began. “We've still got a few hours of daylight left. I'll cook us up some more venison, and you help me out tonight.” He paused, willing himself not to blush. Oh geese he meant with the mission of taking trophies and not like, helping him out like  _ out _ of his clothes!

 

Reyes seems to sense something. His eyes narrowed. “Help you with what?”

 

“Winning,” Jack said, maybe a little too quickly. He outlined his plan before Reyes could question him further.

 

For his part, Reyes stayed quiet, listening. Finally, when Jack finished, he smirked. “Tell you what,” he said, “You roast me something more to eat, I'll tell you how we get our trophies easy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack has tempered the beast for now with food and kindness. Let us see if he can tame him.... 
> 
> Short chapter is short, sorry. The next two are longer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We find out just how Jack got his chico de oro nicname.

Okay, getting Reyes on his team was hands down the best move Jack had ever made. The kid was smart, ballsy as fuck, and wasn't afraid to improvise if things didn't go according to plan.

 

Like now.

 

The plan had been divide and conquer. The two of them could cover more ground, had twice the chance of picking up a trail. And they'd found two recruits, teamed up like they were. What they hadn't planned on was a third off pissing in the bushes when they made their move.

 

Jack executed his part flawlessly. He snapped a twig, drawing the two by the fire away into the dark. Reyes snuck in on their heels, grabbing whatever he could get his hands on. That's when their surprise guest blundered in.

 

“Enemy in camp!” the third yelled.

 

The two Jack was leading away stopped, spinning on their heels and running back to camp. Shit! He lunged out of his hiding place, tackling one. Damn! He'd meant to get them both. The other recruit tore off after Reyes. Jack kicked and thrashed against his opponent who fought back like a wildcat. Jack aimed his fingers at the recruits throat and tore their dog tags off before kicking away and rushing headlong into the dark. He wove through the trees, glad he'd scouted a bit before springing their trap. Shit! Reyes had run the opposite direction of their rally point. He ducked and dove through the trees, looking for underbrush. He angled left, trying to bring the chase around to head at least parallel to Reyes' retreat.

 

His pursuer stumbled over something, giving Jack a bit of breathing room. Still, he pushed on. He wanted to lose him so he could hook up with Reyes. Shit, not like that, he told himself. Meet back up with Reyes, not hook up with him. He slid under a tangle of undergrowth, laying flat on his belly, holding his breath.

 

The recruit following him pounded right past and kept going. Jack shimmied out, listening. Nothing. He shoved the dog tags in his pocket and headed back the way Reyes had bolted. He skidded into the now empty camp, glancing to see if they'd left anyone behind to guard it. Nope. Jack snuck a quick look around. They had a duffle! He couldn't resist looking to see what was inside. He kept his guard up, just encase anyone came back. He unzipped it and—holy shit! He pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. Well this was worth things going sideways! He rummaged through the duffle, stanching up the few ration bars that weren't half eaten and their map, stuffing them into his pockets. Damn they were going to have to amend their plans if the care packages had stuff like this in them! He slipped out of the camp.

 

They'd got more than they ever bargained for. Now he just had to make sure Reyes wasn't found and caught. He kept to the shadows, slinking along until he heard voices.

 

“He can't have gone far!”

 

“If you hadn't lost him—”

 

“Maybe you shouldn't have been taking forever to piss!”

 

Well that answered the question whether they found him or not. Jack peaked out of his hiding place to see where the voices were coming from. Several yards to his eleven o'clock. Shit. Well, if they'd lost him, maybe he was heading back to the rally point. Jack slipped away, careful not to make a sound.

 

When he was out of hearing range, he broke into a jog, heading back to the clearing they'd set as a meet up point. He halted in the shadow of the fallen tree and knelt.

 

“Reyes?” he whispered.

 

Nothing.

 

He waited. Just because they hadn't found him didn't mean that he wasn't pinned, or couldn't break cover. He'd just have to be patient.

 

He waited some more. The moon rose higher. An hour must have passed, and still no Reyes. Shit. What if he was hurt? Lost? Or worse... what if he wasn't coming back to the rally point? He had his meal, snagged some easy pickings. What if he was back at base pilfering Jack's stuff? He shook his head. No. He wasn't going to believe that. Somewhere under those walls was a lonely kid looking for someone to care about him. Have faith in Reyes, in his sense of honor, faith in the good buried deep down in him.

 

Waiting was wearing thin. It'd been two hours. Faith, Jack reminded himself. Come on faith. Something touched his back. He spun, bringing up his fists, but a hand clamped over his mouth.

 

“Not a word, Farm boy,” Reyes hissed.

 

Jack nodded, beaming under Reyes' hand. It felt good knowing he'd pegged the other right.

 

“They’re still looking for us. We gotta move.”

 

Jack let the hand linger—or was Reyes letting it linger?—on his lips a moment before brushing it off. “Well it wasn't me they followed.” He couldn't see the other's eyes in the dark, but he had a feeling they were glaring.

 

“You said there was only two.”

 

“I said I only saw two,” Jack corrected.

 

“You suck at scouting. I'm doing it next time.”

 

Next time? Jack's heart fluttered at the prospect of keeping Reyes around longer. “Let’s finish this time first.”

 

Reyes nodded, pointing north.

 

“You take point then,” Jack said. “Think you can remember how to get back to base?”

 

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

 

Jack smiled at him. “Just said not _a_ word, so I gave you several.”

 

Reyes scoffed and moved off, Jack following behind, wishing quite hard that the moon was fuller so he could admire the view in front of him. Really, really wished he could see the view in front of him. Together, they snuck, tree to tree, shadow to shadow. Reyes halted, holding up a fist. Jack froze, strained his ears. There was a muffled boot fall. He put his hand on Reyes' board shoulder. The other boy looked back at him. Jack pointed to their right. Reyes nodded.

 

They were careful, easing their way around a tree to give them more cover on the right. Almost in unison, they moved to the edge of the shadows. Then a stray ray of moonlight filtered down through the trees, alighting on Jack's hair, making it blaze like a beacon. Reyes turned, his face going a whole shade paler. Fuck.

 

“Got 'em!” screamed a voice.

 

Jack grabbed Reyes' arm. “Run!”

 

They sprinted into the dark, trying to stay together, separating for trees and bad footing. Three sets of boots pounded after them. They skidded to a halt on the edge of another deep gorge. This one had a stream running along the bottom of it. Jack guessed it was a twelve foot drop.

 

“Jump!” Reyes ordered.

 

Jack grabbed his hand before he could. “We'll never make it to the other side!”

 

“Slide then!”

 

Reyes stepped off the edge, dragging Jack with him. They tumbled down the muddy slope, nearly hitting the water. Reyes grabbed Jack by the back of the neck, slamming something cold and wet down on his head. Jack wanted to cry out, but he was forced down onto his face in the mud, Reyes' hand pinning his neck. He turned toward him. The other boy was down in the mud too, holding still as death.

 

A shower of pebbles skittered down the embankment and Jack froze.

 

“Where the fuck did they go now?”

 

“I bet they jumped.”

 

“It's too far idiot! No way.”

 

The voices came from the ledge they'd not long ago been on. Jack held his breath, gaze flicking to Reyes. He was covered head to toe in mud, blending right in with the shadows and rocks of the stream bed. Jack imagined he must look much the same. Something dripped off his head onto his nose. He grimaced.

 

“Come on, they never would have made it. I'll take left, you go right. You go back to camp encase they try anything else.”

 

Three sets of boots went three different directions. Reyes and Jack held still for a good, long time before Reyes let go of Jack's neck. Jack wasn't exactly comfortable down in the mud, but he already regretted that warm hand leaving. Jack pushed himself to his elbows, clawing at his hair. Thick, gooey mud splattered on the ground.

 

“Oh my god did you put fucking stream mud on my head?” He glared at Reyes.

 

The other boy was shaking on the ground.

 

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Was he hurt? Did he break something? “Where are you wounded?” He rolled Reyes over onto his back.

 

Reyes held his sides, eyes squeezed closed, mouth pulled into a toothy smile. The other teen was _laughing!_ He was laughing so hard he wasn't making any noise, just shaking uncontrollably. Jack punched him.

 

“What's so damn funny?” he hissed, keeping his voice low.

 

Reyes rolled onto his side, mud oozing beneath him. “ _Jesucristo!”_ he gasped. “Oh my God! I didn't—” He cut off in a fit of laughter. “ _Chico de oro!_ Literally!”

 

Spanish again. Jack scowled, half-aroused, half-offended. “What the fuck is chink-o dee oreo?”

 

Reyes' shaking only increased as he rolled back and forth, gasping. “Stop! I can't breathe!” He rolled onto his stomach, fists pounding into the mud as laughter rocked out of him.

 

Jack punched him again, but Reyes only fell back onto his side, gasping like a fish.

 

After several long minutes of enduring whatever insult he was ignorant of, Jack stood, trying to comb the worst of the mud out of his hair. “Fuck you, Reyes,” he grumbled. He'd move camp, steal that damn beanie back and dump him in the closet mud pit.

 

“Golden boy!” Reyes finally said, still chuckling on the ground. “ _Chico-de-oro,_ ” he said, drawing out the syllables slowly. “It means Golden boy. That's what everyone calls you behind your back.”

 

Jack drew himself up, scowling. He didn't like that name. He wasn't a golden anything. Yeah he followed the rules, but that didn't make him... that! “I'm not!” he insisted.

 

Reyes sputtered, laying out on the ground like he'd gone ten rounds with a real super soldier. “Don't even. You show up early, stay late, you're always at the head of the class. Perfect scores. People are whispering that you’re guzzling the major's cock.”

 

Jack bristled, hands balling into fists. He hated that he was embarrassed. Hated that other people thought his work ethic was some kind of joke, and that he'd get on his knees to get ahead.

 

“And while we're fucking smack in the middle of a damn dark forest, God sends a beam of light down and makes your hair fucking glow!” He dissolved into another fit of laughter. “Like his little golden angel!”

 

Jack scrubbed at his hair. Yeah, so, he was blond. And the light had happened to come at the wrong moment. It wasn't like he could control his hair color or the damn moon! “Go to Hell.” He kicked the mud, splattering it all over Reyes and his laughing face. He turned on his heel, walking off. If that's what Reyes thought, that he was some kind of joke, he could drown in the next rainstorm.

 

“Hey, where you going?” Reyes called after him.

 

Jack flipped him off without turning around. Footfalls jogged up and Reyes walked backwards in front of him, smile plastered on his mud covered face.

 

“Oh come on, what happened, it’s _funny_ ,” he said.

 

Jack stopped walking, face set in a neutral frown. “What do you think of me?”

 

Reyes gave him a quizzical look. “Think what?”

 

“Do you think I'm some cock-guzzling, _golden boy_ , doing anything to get ahead?” he growled. “Because if you do, you can go fuck yourself.”

 

Reyes blinked, looking taken aback.

 

“I joined up to make a difference,” Jack snarled, jabbing his finger in Reyes' chest. “I want to protect my family, my friends, the whole damn world if I have to. So I stay up studying all night. So I work out extra. That's why I get perfect scores. That's why I stay longer. Hard work. So if you can't respect that, this is where we part ways.” He shouldered past Reyes, intent on leaving him behind.

 

“Yo, _chico de oro,_ wait up!”

 

Jack glared as the other fell into step beside him. “Don't call me that again.”

 

Reyes flashed him a smile. “Naw, I don't mean it like that,” he said. “I mean it like, golden hearted.” He reached over and tapped Jack's chest. “And well, the whole thing with the moon in your hair too, _chico de oro._ ”

 

“Are you ever going to use my name?” Jack asked, his anger melting away just as fast as it boiled up.

 

Reyes shrugged. “If I use your name people might think we're friends or something.”

 

“And that would just be terrible wouldn't it?”

 

“Don't know,” Reyes said. “Never been one for friends.”

 

“It's not so bad,” Jack said. “It could even be fun.”

  
Reyes looked at him, lips pursed again, dark eyes unreadable in the shadows. “We'll see.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll give you three guesses what Jack does with that bottle of whiskey. The first two don't count.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If everyone will please turn to Midna_Ronoa and thank her. I had scraped about half this chapter when I couldn't find what I wanted in Spanish, and she descended from the clouds of Heaven to help me out. And give me 7 new pages for this beast. The chapter is now exactly what I wanted and I couldn't be happier.

“We're calling it a night?” Jack asked. “We were doing so well!”

 

“Well? Ha! I have mud everywhere, my knees are aching and I'm pretty sure you elbowed me about ten times on the way down. Two trophies aren't worth hours wandering around with mud up my ass.”

 

Jack was glad his face was covered in mud, because he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to pass off his red face as 'moon burn.' He decided to get off the subject of asses. “By the way, you counted wrong.” He pulled the dog tags out of his pocket. “Three trophies.”

 

Reyes looked at him, one eyebrow lifted. “Well damn. How'd you manage that?”

 

“Same way I managed this.” He pulled the ration bars, map, and whiskey out of his fatigue pockets.

 

Reyes' eyes widened.

 

“You made a very good distraction,” Jack said, smirking.

 

Reyes took the bottle and smiled. “I think this calls for a victory celebration don't you?”

 

“That’s for sterilizing wounds.”

 

“That’s something a golden boy would say.” Reyes smirked. “You’re not a golden boy, are you?”

 

Jack pursed his lips. “Don't you have to be twenty-one in the city to drink?”

 

“We're not in the city, are we?” Reyes said. “What, like you don't party in the country?”

 

“Ever been to a bonfire?” Jack asked. “I know fifteen-year olds that could out drink you.” Hell, they could out drink him!

 

“Well neither of us are getting too messed up with such a small bottle,” Reyes said, passing it back. “But it'll help us sleep.”

 

“Fine.” God Jack hoped it was a dreamless sleep.

 

Back at camp, they stashed their new loot under the exposed roots of a tree and crawled into the shelter. Jack let Reyes have the blanket, and he balled up the deer hide into a passable pillow. They each had a ration bar and Reyes wasted no time cracking open the whiskey. Jack started a small fire to keep them warm and give them some light. If he blushed too bad, he could blame the heat.

 

Reyes tossed the cap to the floor, pressed the bottle to his lips and knocked back a shot. He wiped his wet lips on his sleeve and handed Jack the bottle. “To success,” he said.

 

Licking his lips, Jack took the offered bottle. Christ the rim was still wet from Reyes' lips. “To success,” he echoed, lifting the bottle. The glass was warm and slick. Jack took a long pull, trying very hard not to think about how he was second-hand kissing Reyes, and failing equally as hard to do so. The liquid scorched his throat. He could feel it burning its way into the pit of his stomach like the path of a lava flow. Shit that was strong. He pulled it away.

 

“Damn, _chico de oro_ maybe you aren't so golden after all.”

 

Jack smiled, passing back the bottle. “I've been to a few bonfires in my time.”

 

“In my time? What are you, an old man?” Reyes took the bottle back. “You’re what, like, seventeen?”

 

“Eighteen,” Jack corrected. Plenty old enough to fuck and fight back home. Not that he'd done a whole lot of either.

 

“Baby face,” Reyes scoffed, taking another pull.

 

“What is it with you and nicknames?” He grabbed the bottle back when Reyes went for another shot.

 

“Oh no, _verga_. This is not the part where we have a few shots and start spilling life stories.” He grabbed for the bottle.

 

Jack held it out of reach. “Right, that's what friends do.” He sucked down another shot of lava before passing it back. Already, he felt more relaxed. The whiskey was dark, smoky with a hard bite at the end. Maybe Reyes was wrong about them getting trashed tonight. “Come on, you've given me like twenty names. What's the deal?”

 

“You're easy,” Reyes snorted. “Every time I call you a new one, you get this hurt look. It's hilarious.” He took another swig.

 

“So I'm just lucky? Figures.” Jack reached out a hand for the bottle.

 

“Could be worse. You're just Blondie, Farm boy, and _chico de oro._ You could be _pinche idiota_ , _puto_ , or _culo_.” Reyes tipped back another shot before putting it in his hand.

 

Those didn't sound so bad. In fact, they sounded really nice rolling off Reyes' tongue. “Pich-a idiot-yo-ta,” he tried.

 

Reyes sputtered, whiskey dribbling down his chin. He gulped, then broke out in laughter. It was a nice sounding laugh, not at all like the harsh ones he usually shot at people in training. “Shit don't do that to me when I'm drinking! You could have killed me.”

  


“What's it mean?” Jack slurred. Shit. He was slurring already. He took a shot from the bottle to cover his ass. No way was he going to let Reyes think he was getting buzzed after a shot or two. He passed the bottle back to a wildly grinning Reyes.

 

“You, white bread, can _not_ speak Spanish.”

 

“That sounds like a challenge,” Jack said, very pleased that his s's hardly even ran together. “And I think that brings my nicknames up to four. You should start taking shots every time you come up with a new one.”

 

Reyes chuckled. “Fucking trashed already? You look all shiny on the outside, but you're just wasted. You're corrupted gold.” Reyes was starting to sound a little slurry too.

 

“Poo-toe,” Jack said.

 

Reyes laughed, shaking his head, pointing at him. “Stop! Jesus you’re butchering it worse then what you did to Bambi!”

 

Jack really liked Reyes' laugh. He liked this unguarded side of him, the fun, joking side. “Coo-low.”

 

Reyes put his face in his hands, shaking with laughter. His head snapped up, dark eyes shiny from the whiskey. “Alright, try this one: _hijo de puta._ ”

 

“Easy. Ee-yo dee poo-tah.” He didn't even care what it meant. Reyes was laughing, he was laughing. They were having fun.

 

“Oh my god our ancestors are rolling in their graves listening to this. You're _so_ painfully white, Morrison.”

 

Jack beamed from ear to ear. He did remember his name! “I'll have you know, my ancestors are not here. And I don't give a damn what they would thing—think. I could speak Spanish if I wanted to.”

 

“You're not even speaking Spanish now!”

 

“Well then teach me.”

 

“I'll die before you get it right.” Reyes shook his head.

 

“Come on, give me another.”

 

Reyes' mouth quirked up into a mischievous smirk. “My sisters would eat you alive, Farm boy.”

 

“Then good thing for me you're here and not them. Come on, another!”

 

“ _Bueno para nada pedazo de mierda._ ”

 

“Bueno! I know that one, means good.” He took another hit from the nearly empty bottle.

 

Reyes curled his first two fingers in a give it here gesture. Jack handed over the whiskey. “Come on, _Chico de oro. Bueno para nada pedazo de mierda._ ”

 

“Bueno pair-a—” He didn't remember speaking the rest. But whatever he said had Reyes in stitches, holding his sides, doubled over with laughter.

 

Jack was getting a little lightheaded. The cramped shelter had become hot and small. The ground looked comfy. He was just about to sprawl out when Reyes’ voice dragged him back.

 

“You fucked that one up good white bread,” Reyes said when he finally pulled himself together. “Too long for you. Back to something easy.”

 

It’d better be, because the shots were catching up to him fast.

 

“You’re so wasted!” Reyes chuckled.

 

How did he know? “Shit did I say that out loud?”

 

“That you’re a fucking lightweight and you can’t handle a few shots? Yeah, _cabrón_ , you said that out loud.”

 

Fuck. He did? “I’m fine.”

 

“Don’t bullshit me.”

 

“I’m fine! Give me another word and I’ll show you.”

 

The mischievous glint in his dark eyes and the lopsided grin Reyes gave him made Jack’s heart pound a little harder.

 

“Say: _Azótame_.”

 

“What’s it mean?”

 

“Just say it!”

 

“As-zo-tame.”

 

Reyes’ eyes half closed as his grin turned wicked. “I’d love to. Now say, _quiero chupartela_.”

 

Some part of his drowning reason told him there was something different about Reyes’ grin. It was almost farel. Jack beamed stupidly. A smile was a smile. They were only playing around after all. “Key-a-row chew-part-tay-la.”

 

His spine melted at the husky laugh that rumbled out of Reyes.

 

“Oh if you insist sweet little _chico de oro_ , go right ahead.”

 

“What’d I say?”

 

“You fucked it up too bad!” He laughed again, head tilted back, guard relaxed.

 

Damn he looked good when he wasn’t scowling. “Want me to try again?”

 

“All night if you have to.”

 

Jack liked that idea. A lot.

 

The coy smirk was back on Reyes’ lips. “Tell me _fóllame duro_.”

 

Yeah, Jack could smirk like that too and look cool. He put his elbow on his knee, chin in his palm, and leaned in, smirking. “Foy-ya-me dur-ro, Reyes.”

 

Ha! Reyes’ eyes widened for a moment. A blush tinted those bronze cheeks pink before he glanced away, showing the color had spread to his ears. Whatever Jack said must have been embarrassing.

 

“Goddamn. Your pronunciation sucks.”

 

Jack clucked his tongue to loosen it. “Foy-ya-me dar-ro,” he tried again. Christ Reyes turned reder! Jack grinned. Oh man this must be a really bad thing to say. “Foy-ya-me. Dur-ro. Foy-ya-me, Reyes! Dur-ro!”

 

Reyes turned back to him, still red over his tan. “Stop! You’re killing me. But shit, I mean if you’re going to yell, at least yell _soy un chillón_.”

 

“Soy un chilly-on,” Jack tested the words. Seemed easy enough.

 

“Louder,” Reyes taunted.

 

Jack raised his voice. “Soy un chilly-on.”

 

“Louder white bread!”

 

“Soy un chilly-on!”

 

“Come on! Like you mean it!”

 

Jack threw his head back. “Soy un chilly-on!” he screamed up at the roof.

 

Reyes burst out laughing, collapsing onto his back. His laugh was infectious. Jack cracked up, not knowing why. Reyes glanced at him, then laughed harder, holding his sides. Jack sputtered, his laugh bubbling out of him uncontrollably.

 

“Oh my God I can’t believe you screamed it!” Reyes wheezed. “Fuck! I’m gonna die!” Tears streamed down his red cheeks. “Can’t breathe!”

 

Gasping for air himself, Jack flopped onto the the ground. He didn’t know of the spots dancing in front of his eyes was from the whiskey or the lack of air. Probably both. After a moment they quieted down. Reyes chuckled, Jack echoed it. They cracked up again at nothing until they were both breathless on their backs.

 

Jack was feeling good. Really, really good. The whiskey had relaxed him, and finally putting some cracks in Reyes' barriers felt like a win. He rolled his head over so he could see the other. Reyes held the bottle up, swishing the last remains of their hard won prize around.

 

“Fight you for it?” Reyes asked, turning to look at Jack.

 

Some misfiring connection in Jack's brain suddenly clicked into place. He studied the color in the bottle, then Reyes' eyes. How come he hadn't seen it before? Those dark, smoky depths with fire behind them that would burn you all the way down, then spread through your veins and make you feel so good. That was the color of the other's eyes. Strong, dark whiskey. He grinned stupidly. “All yours.”

 

“Sweet.”

 

Reyes went to throw back the last of it and Jack flung out an arm. He meant to grab his wrist, but he missed pretty terribly and ended up bashing him in the chest. Reyes grunted and looked at him.

 

“What's your name?” Jack asked.

 

Reyes made a noise that was part scoff, part raspberry, mostly slur. “You are so fucking wasted. It's fucking Reyes.”

 

Yes. He would like to be fucking Reyes. Jack laughed stupidly, almost wishing he'd said that out loud. “The G!”

 

“The what?”

 

Jack tried to point to Reyes' chest, but ended up just getting a handful of hard pectoral. “On your tag. G. Reyes. What's the G for?” To his immense pleasure, Reyes didn't brush his hand away.

 

“No way,” Reyes scoffed, draining the last of the whiskey in one long pull. “Nuh uh. No first name.”

 

Jack sighed, pulling his hand away so he could lay on his back and try to stop the world from spinning. “Mine's John.”

 

Reyes looked at him. “Thought you wanted me to call you Jack.”

 

“I do.” He shook his head, why the hell was he telling him this? “John's my father. And I don't want to be my father.” He snorted. “John Morrison the second. Fucking hate it.”

 

“Fuckin' hell I didn't think you could get any whiter.” Reyes let go of the bottle and it rolled between them, empty of even the dregs. “Morrison, if someone put vanilla ice cream, on a loaf of bread, put some miracle whip on top, and stood you next to it, you'd make it look tan.”

 

“I know!” he chuckled. “When it snows back home no one can find me.”

 

Reyes let out a long-suffering sigh. “ _Gabriel_.”

 

“What?”

 

Reyes shoved him. “You fuckin' wanted to know! I told you!”

 

“Tell me what?”

 

“ _Estupido,_ you're fucking plastered. My name _idiota._ It's _Gabriel_.”

 

Jack cracked up, burying his face in the dirt and kicking his feet. He got punched, but he barely felt it. Reyes snapped at him, demanded to know what was so funny.

 

“You give me shit and call me an angel for my fucking hair, and you're fucking named after an angel?” he looked up.

 

Reyes was blushing. And not like, a little. His cheeks, nose, ears, neck, everything was red.

 

Jack smiled. “Gabe-reel-al.” His whiskey soaked tongue fumbled.

 

Reyes laughed. “Can't even roll your r's! Stop trying to over do it. _Gabriel._ Like that.”

 

“Gabi-real-el,” he tried again, tongue still flopping uselessly behind his teeth when he tried to mimic the rolling sound.

 

“Oh my God stop!” Reyes laughed harder, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes again. “Please just say it like a white person! That will hurt less!”

 

“Gabriel,” Jack said, confidant he got that one right. But he wanted to say it the way Reyes did, with that rolling r in the middle that made his whole body wonder what it would be like to feel that tongue rolling around his mouth. “I'm gonna call you Gabriel.”

 

“Don't you dare.” Reyes pushed a finger into his chest.

 

Jack felt a heat hotter than the whiskey flood through him. The finger was pressing into his nipple.

 

“Don't you dare fucking tell anyone,” Reyes growled. “Not my name, and definitely not about—” He pointed to his hat.

 

That was enough to cut through the heat of their contact. Jack furrowed his eyebrows. “You don't want people to know I stole your beanie?”

 

“Not the beanie,” Reyes hissed. “My hair.”

 

“You don't want people to know you have hair?”

 

Reyes took his hand back, which was worse than any punch. “I fucking hate my hair.”

 

“But it's pretty,” Jack blurted before his alcohol-logged brain even had a chance to think about the words. It was too busy trying remembering the soft curls. Then there was the overwhelming urge to crawl over and run his hands through the dark locks to feel them. “If you don't like it, why not just cut it?” Jack might die if that happened.

 

Reyes huffed. “Because my _abuela_ likes it. Says it reminds her of my _abuelo_.” He pulled the beanie down over his ears. “Makes me look like a fucking pretty boy and I hate it.”

 

“I think it looks nice.” Jack smiled. “And who gives a fuck what other people thing—think? You're a badass.”

 

Reyes scoffed.

 

“Well you are. I mean, you shatter every test they give us. And you hit every damn target. And then you just act so fucking cool.”

 

“Yeah, and no one would think that when I look like some damn band-boy model.”

 

Jack shrugged. “Hair or not, you'd still be badass holding a rifle.”

 

Reyes sighed, rolling onto his back. “God damn it, Morrison stop it.”

 

“Stop what?”

 

“Making me like you.”

 

Jack rolled on to his back, grinning. “Told you we'd be friends.”

 

“Fuck you we're not friends.”

 

“Come on, we're totally friends.”

 

“We're totally not.”

 

“Oh my God, Gabriel just be nice already or I swear I'm going to fucking take your beanie again.” He heard Reyes scramble to pull his hat down snugly over his head. Ha! Like Jack could move that fast after half a bottle.

 

“Fine! _Dios, dame paciencia porque si me das fuerzas lo mato!_ You win, we're fucking friends.”

 

Heat pooled in Jack's belly and he blushed from head to toe. God why did he have to say it like that? “Good.” He curled up on his side, facing away from Reyes. Jesus it was too hot in here.

 

Reyes grunted, rolling over himself. “I'm going to bed now. If you touch my beanie I'll cut your dick off.”

 

“Got it.” Jack bit his lip.

 

It was quiet for a moment.

 

“Night, _chico de oro._ ”

 

“Night, Gabriel.”

 

Shit. It was going to be a long night.

  
  
  
  


“You love when I speak Spanish.”

 

Jack opened his eyes. He was face down in the mud, with a warm, heavy weight pressed against his back. Lips brushed against his ear. He shivered.

 

“You have a language kink, Jack,” Reyes whispered in his ear. “You kinky fucker.” He bit Jack’s ear and pulled.

 

He nearly exploded into flames. “N-No! I don’t have… kinks.” Just staying the word made him want to hide his face.

 

“Oh you don’t?” Reyes’ stubble trickled along Jack’s cheek. Soft lips pressed to his ear. “ _Quiero chupartela, chico de oro._ ”

 

Goddamn that deep voice whispering Spanish in his ear—Jack moaned, shoulders flexing, fingers clawing at the mud as a chill tingled up his neck.

 

Reyes chuckled. A breathy little noise that made heat stir in Jack’s belly. “Poor innocent, Jack. He has no idea what I said, but he’s turned on.”

 

A hand trailed down his naked back, then cupped his ass, squeezing hard. Oh God! He wanted him to do it again!

 

“Admit it. You like your men exotic, with flexible tongues, that hold you down and have their way with you. No more vanilla. You want dark, dangerous, spice.”

 

Sharp teeth bit his neck, hot tongue swirling against his skin. He mewled again, breath hitching, fingers gripping the mud for some kind of anchor.

 

“You want me to fuck you,” Reyes whispered. “You loved when I pinned you down before. You can’t get it out of your head. You want to feel me on your back, your cute little ass against my hips.”

 

Jack broke out in a blush. He'd—the guys he'd been with before—he was always the—never the—

 

“My sweet _chico de oro._ You want me to pop that juicy little cherry of yours, don’t you?”

 

“O-Oh God!” he hissed, lifting his hips, trying to dislodge the weight but it moved with him, keeping him pinned. He couldn’t think. God he was so hard. His cock ached to be touched.

 

“Tell me what you want, Jack. Ask very nice and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

 

“I-I want—” Shit this shouldn’t be so difficult to say! He wanted it so bad. But holy hell Reyes made his brain flatline. “Want—”

 

“Say it. Say, Gabriel, please pop my cherry.” The hand cupping his ass squeezed again.

 

Jack yelped, jerking forward, his back sliding along the firm chest pressed against him. “Gabriel!” He moaned, shivering, so turned on and embarrassed he didn’t know what was worse, wanting to be fucked, or wanting to be fucked so bad he’d take it down in the mud. “Please—please pop my cherry!”

 

Reyes' big hands lifted his hips out of the mud, pulling them back. Jack groaned as a strong knee pushed between his thighs, separating them. Something hard rubbed against his ass. Gasping, Jack pushed against it.

 

“ _Azótame_. Say it.”

 

“As-zo-tame.”

 

Reyes’ big hand swatted Jack’s ass. A thrill rushed up his spine as he gasped, grinding back against the hard cock.

 

“My, my, eager for your first time aren't you?”

 

Jack nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows. God it'd been forever since he got laid, and now here he was on his hands and knees, wanting someone to fuck him so bad he didn't care if he was bottoming. “Please,” he mumbled, rubbing his ass against Reyes' hips.

 

“Tell me, _fóllame duro_.”

 

“Foll-la-me der-ro,” he gasped.

 

His pants were stripped to his ankles. His asscheeks were spread, a warm hand resting on the small of his back. Spit lubed fingers trailed around his hole. He shuddered, whimpering like a puppy as the fingers slid around, dipping in just enough to tease, before they were pulled away, only to be returned with more spit.

 

“Reyes! Please!” His lust hazed brain groped for the right word. He should know it…. “Poor… Poor favor?”

 

The calloused fingers pressed inside him roughly. Jack yelped, clenching at the intrusion.

 

“Since you said please.”

 

The fingers withdrew. The big hands gripped his hips and then his ass was full. Jack clenched, moaning, fingers clawing like a cat in heat. Reyes thrust, rocking him forward. Jack moved with him, cheek pressed into the mud, lifting his ass up to grind against those sinful hips.

 

“Yes!” He wanted more! He ached for more contact, for the rock hard cock to bury itself inside him, for Spanish whispered in his ear, for a bite, for a smack on the ass. Anything and everything! He wanted Reyes!

 

Reyes bucked behind him again, and Jack moaned. His hand fumbled for his cock. Finding it, he stroked himself. It wasn't enough. He wanted so much more!

 

“Nice and tight,” Reyes rumbled in his ear.

 

Crap! Even his English made Jack's cock throb.

 

“Are you hungry for it Jack?”

 

“Yes!” he jerked himself harder.

 

“You want all of my dick, don't you?”

 

“Yes!” God he was so close! “All of it!”

 

“You want my cock stuffed inside you until you can't take it anymore?”

 

Jack pushed back against the hips, pressing his cheek into the mud, anything to get more of that glorious cock deeper inside of him and hit that one spot that would make him scream. “Wreck my ass! Poor favor!”

 

Reyes’ fingers clenched hard enough to leave bruises. He bucked forward, slamming Jack’s hips back. Jack screamed.

  
  


 

He snapped up. The world spun, the ground shook, and bile came up the back of his throat. Jack flopped back down, hand over his face. Someone had bashed his skull with a hammer. He licked his dry lips and tasted mud.

 

Mud. His cheek pressed into it, fingers sunk in it, rocking back and forth as Reyes fucked him from behind.... He sat up again, ignoring the pounding in his head. Oh damn not again! But his wrecked pants and boxers didn't lie.

 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered into his palm. This shit was getting ridiculous. _Every_ damn night?

 

Something shifted beside him. Jack froze. Oh God. Oh God no! He looked over. Reyes was asleep, back to him. Jack wanted to die on the spot. He grabbed the deer hide and crawled out of the shelter as fast as he could with his splitting headache.

 

Dawn had just crested the treetops in the east. His breath came in silvery puffs. It was cold as hell, but Jack was burning up.

 

He'd had a fucking wet dream about Reyes while he was sleeping right next to him! Fuck if Reyes happened to have seen—what if he'd heard? Shit what if Jack had been moaning in his sleep and woke him up and he saw everything?

  
“Kill me now,” he groaned

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people were wondering how Reyes felt about Jack (since Jack is kinda terrible at hiding things so we all know how he feels) If you want to go ahead and take a look at the translations... you might find a hint.... 
> 
> Translations: With special thanks to Midna_Ronoa for all her help, and Mishaisnotthatfuunyjensen for making sure I didn't embarrass myself. 
> 
> verga- dick  
> pinche idiota- fucking idiot  
> puto- bitch (roughly)  
> culo- ass  
> hijo de puta- motherfucker  
> Bueno para nada pedazo de mierda- good for nothing piece of shit  
> cabrón- bastard  
> Azótame- spank me  
> quiero chupartela- I want to suck you off  
> fóllame duro- fuck me rough  
> soy un chillón- I'm a screamer  
> Estupido- stupid  
> idiota- idiot  
> abuela- grandmother  
> abuelo- grandfather  
> Dios, dame paciencia porque si me das fuerzas lo mato- God, grant me patience because if you grant me strength I will kill him!


	10. Chapter 10

He was covered head to toe in mud, and the wet patch in his boxers was an uncomfortable reminder about how fucked he was. Shit if Reyes woke up and saw him like this— He needed a cold shower, and something to scrub away the feeling of teeth on his ear.

 

It was easily five or six in the morning. The sun wouldn't warm anything up until later in the afternoon. Cleaning off in the stream now would give him hypothermia. He didn't care. Better to die of that than of embarrassment. He headed out to the stream, stripping off his shirt as he went.

 

The crystal-clear water was as cold as it was pretty. Jack knelt, sticking his head as close as he could without falling in. He scooped up handfuls of frigid water, splashing it on his head and scrubbing his hair clean. His scalp contracted, sending shivers down his naked back. Concentrating on the pain instead of the fire in his belly, Jack buried his face in the rushing water. The cold shock made him exhale. He came up sputtering, soaking hair pouring ice down his shoulders and torso. His teeth chattered so much he thought he'd bite though his tongue. Still, the fire persisted. He could still feel the hips against his ass. Clenching involuntarily, he moaned. He had to do something about it!

 

Without thinking, he dunked his shirt into the water and then put the soaked garment on his groin.

 

“Fucking hell!” he hissed. It was so cold it burned. He kept it firmly in place until his cock went limp and all he could think about was how cold he was.

 

While he was fucked six-ways from Sunday anyways, he stripped his pants and boxers, using his wet shirt to scrub and clean away the mud and cum from his skin. The frigid temperatures made his work fast. Passably clean was better than the mess he had been. Shaking, teeth knocking together so hard he couldn't hear anything else, he rinsed his clothes and rang them out.

 

He was pretty sure he'd turned blue. He bundled himself in the deer hide—that smelled like old meat but at least it was dry—and trotted back to camp. Tossing his clothes into a patch of sunlight, he pulled the deer hide tighter around himself and crawled back into the warmth of the shelter.

 

Reyes was still out. Thank God. He started up a fire and huddled over it, nearly sticking his shaking hands into the flames to warm them. Slowly, the heat chased off the death rattling cold. His skin lost its blue tinge. That was stupid. He was stupid. That could have killed him. Scrubbing his face with his palms, he groaned.

 

What was he going to do? He couldn't take much more fantasizing, it wasn't enough. But he also couldn't jump Reyes' bones like some horny adolescent. Maybe Reyes didn't like guys. He sure as hell didn't seem to like people. It'd been hard enough to even get him to admit to being friends. And he was a cool guy, when he wasn't his usual grumpy self. Jack looked over at the other boy. It would suck to ruin a friendship that had only just begun. Okay, this was the plan: he'd keep sex out of the equation—he was a little fuzzy on the how—and just be friends for now. He'd get to know Reyes better, build a foundation, and then see which way his cock swung. Shit, what if it didn't swing his way? Well then he'd have a friend and that was fine. Good. He had a plan. Something to stick to rather than just making it up as he went.

 

Finally, the fire chased away the last of the chill. He was starting to feel normal again when Reyes stirred, groaning.

 

“Shit, someone fucking kill me,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket over his head.

 

Jack chuckled, tucking his hands in the deer skin. “Wake up sleeping beauty, or does prince charming have to come over there and kiss you?” Please say yes.

 

“I'm way hotter than her,” Reyes grumbled.

 

True.

 

“You're freaking chipper today,” the other boy mumbled. “What? Booze doesn't get to you like us non-made of golds?”

 

Jack chuckled. “That's it. My head definitely isn't pounding right now. I mean, you said we weren't getting trashed.”

 

Reyes slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Jesus he looked as bad as Jack felt. “Yeah well, I was wrong. Fucking demon in that bottle.”

 

“Good thing a pair of angels were here to take care of it.”

 

Reyes let out a laugh, then moaned, holding his head. “Don't make me laugh damn it. My head is killing me.” He sat by the fire. Finally, his eyes focused and he looked at Jack. “The hell happened to you?”

 

Jack tried to grin, teeth chattering just a little. “I was tired of the mud.”

 

Reyes rubbed his face. “Jesus what time is it?”

 

“Maybe like oh-nine-hundred? Ten hundred?”

 

Reyes arched an eyebrow. “Shit. Were you looking for a fence post to crow on or something?”

 

Jack shook his head. “Farm boy. I'm up with the sun.”

 

“You sure you're not a super soldier already? Booze has no effect on you.”

 

“Oh it does, trust me.”

 

Reyes rummaged through their hiding place and tossed him a ration bar. “Breakfast.”

 

They ate in silence. Between the splitting headache and the ice bath, Jack had no trouble keeping his thoughts in line. “What are we going to do today?” he asked.

 

“Lie down and die for starters,” Reyes grunted.

 

“I was thinking something more productive. If more people are teaming up, we've gotta be careful. Scout better.”

 

“ _ Someone _ has to scout better,” Reyes said, pinning Jack with an annoyed glare.

 

Jack ignored him. “I was thinking—”

 

“When do you have the time to do all this thinking?”

 

“Shut up. Thinking if we scouted during the day, we could mark targets, then hit them at night. It would free up time so we could hit multiple under the cover of darkness, rather than wander around.”

 

“So my idea but at night. Fucking brilliant, Morrison. You’re a tactical genius.”

 

Jack grinned.

 

Reyes glared at him. “What's with the smile, you thinking about tractors or something?”

 

“You called me Morrison.”

 

“And?”

 

“Thought only friends called each other by their names.”

 

“Oh my God, you and your obsession with friendship.” Reyes threw up his hands. “I was trashed last night but not black out trashed. You got what you wanted,  _ Morrison _ ,” he spat the name. “So stop grinning like a puppy with a new ball. We're friends now. Don't make me regret it.”

 

“Can I call you Gabriel?”

 

“ _ Verga _ , we're not that good of friends.”

 

“We will be.”

 

“Fucking hell I regret it already.”

 

Jack only smiled. Reyes was prickly as a fucking cactus, but even cactus bloomed. Besides, it was fun to tease him. Talk about being easy, everything seemed to strike a nerve, even Jack's smile. “So do you want to win this thing or not?”

 

“I want to get clean is what I want.” He rubbed the patchy stubble dotting his chin. “And maybe a shave.”

 

“Leave the beard, it hides your ugliness better.”

 

Reyes chucked the empty bottle at him. Jack dodged it and laughed. Reyes crawled for the entrance.

 

“Were you going?” Jack asked.

 

“To take a shit.”

 

“Go away from camp. And you better fucking do it downwind.”

 

“If I'm feeling generous. Which I'm not.” He disappeared out the entrance.

 

Jack laid back down and closed his eyes.

 

 

 

Only when he woke up did he realize he'd fallen asleep. Shit. Speaking of.... He sat up. No sign of Reyes. Yawning, Jack stretched, then crawled outside. The sun wasn't too much higher. Maybe around noon. His clothes were dry where he'd left them. Glancing around to make sure he was alone, he dropped the deer hide and pulled his boxers and pants back on. The sun was warm on his skin, so he left his shirt slung over his shoulder. He could use some sun. Maybe if he got a little color Reyes would stop calling him white-bread. Where was he anyways?

 

Jack shrugged it off. Maybe he was struggling to find something to wipe his ass with. He'd come back when he was ready. Busying himself with some upkeep chores, Jack gathered some more tinder and sticks for fires, replaced some more lose undergrowth to the shelter. He dumped an armful of sticks and leaves and grabbed the canteen, taking a pull. It was nearly drained. Great. Another chore. Adjusting his shirt so it hung around his neck, he took the canteen and headed for the stream for a refill.

 

He was in the middle of cursing not putting on his shirt as he cut through the brush that was cutting back, when he stumbled to a sudden halt.

 

Reyes was standing on the bank of the stream.

 

Naked.

 

Jack's pulse went from normal to running for his life in an instant.

 

The mud covered pants and boxers lay in a heap, the black beanie perched on top. Reyes dipped his shirt in the water, brought it above his head and squeezed. Water flowed down him, soaking his curly black hair, splashing on his too-big shoulders, racing down his back. His ass was perfect like the rest of him. Tight, firm, each cheek like a bronze melon. Jack's eyes went lower as his blood pressure went through the roof. He'd never realized Reyes had thick thighs, or how absolutely, perfectly sculpted they were. Good God Reyes had an hourglass figure to die for, big shoulders, small waist, big thighs. Rivulets of water trickled down the tan skin, dripping off the perfect ass, down his thighs. Oh God those thighs! Jack was sure he was about to pass out from blood loss.

 

He must have made some kind of noise. Reyes turned, looking over at him. Jack's eyes—of their own free will—glanced south. Reyes had a nice cock. Thick, dark, surprising large for being in the middle of an ice bath. Jack wondered what it would look like erect, the head rosy with arousal. How big would it get? The heat in his belly blazed into a fire that scorched his face. Quickly he turned around.

 

“S-Sorry!” he stammered quickly, palms sweating, heart racing. “I-I didn't know you were—” So fucking hot naked. “Bathing. I didn't see anything.” Such a fucking lie! He saw everything. And he liked it. “I mean, I did, but I didn't mean....” He had to leave. Fast. “I'm sorry. I'll go.”

 

If Reyes said anything, Jack couldn't hear him over the pounding of his heart. He took two controlled steps, then burst into a sprint. Undergrowth lashed at his arms and chest but he didn't feel it. He raced by camp, not slowing down. He needed distance. Distance and privacy. Trees whipped by him. He didn't know how far he'd gone. He found a tree with some brush tall enough to hide most of him. Panting, he leaned his back against it, gasping for air like he couldn't breathe. He fumbled with the zipper of his pants, then with the slit in his boxers. God he was so fucking hard. Moaning, he pulled his cock out, stroking himself, pressing his back into the tree.

 

He closed his eyes. Water dribbled off tan skin, lingering on those big thighs. He wanted to kiss them, bite them, have them straddle him while his hands caressed them. His cock throbbed, wanting more. Jack wanted to sink his fingers into that hard ass, cupping it, squeezing it, feeling how hard it really was. Pre wept from his slit, dribbling down his shaft as his hands pumped harder. And that cock! Jack leaned his head back against the rough bark, toes curling, knees bent. God he wanted it! He wanted to get down on his knees, hands kneading the gorgeous thighs as he licked and kissed that dark cock, watching it rise, feel its heat against his lips. His leg jerked, he bit his lip to keep from crying out.

 

His ass hit the ground when his knees turned to jelly. He fondled his balls, working his head, rubbing circles around his slit. He wanted those big hands on him instead of his own, kneading him, dragging moans from his mouth, pulling his hair. He wanted Reyes nestled agaisnt his back, he wanted that huge cock filling him to bursting, slamming into him, making him scream.

 

He came into his hand, swallowing a moan as his hips bucked like he was fucking Reyes instead of himself. Everything tingled. His skin burned, wanting rough, strong hands to cool it. Jack let his head slump to his chest.

 

Oh fuck. How the hell was he supposed to get that image out of his head? What the fuck was he going to do every time he looked at Reyes now? It wasn't like he could forget that beautiful, cut body as water glittered on his mahogany skin. Shit. He was fucked. So very fucked. Totally, completely fucked. Now the dreams were going to be worse! Maybe he just didn't sleep. That could work. Just say up for the next week, two weeks, month, whatever it took. He could do it. What was the alternative? March back into camp, ask Reyes if he liked ass because if he did there was one ready and waiting for him to plow it like a field?

 

No way. Reyes would kick the shit out of him. Probably make good on his threat to cut off his dick. If Reyes wanted sex, Jack was sure he was the kind of guy that went for it. They'd been drunk off their asses last night, and he hadn't made a move. Because holy shit if he had Jack wouldn't have been able to walk straight this morning.

 

With a sigh, he wiped his hand on the bed of pine needles. If Reyes wasn't into guys, what was he going to do? This wasn't something that was going to go away easy. Shit, how did he even broach the subject? Hey Reyes, buddy, friend, listen I'm cuming in my pants over you, so if you could be a pal and fuck me into next week that would just be amazing. Maybe they made a card for that.

 

He put his dick back in his pants and sat for a while, getting his heart back under control. Hormones were supposed to be over with. He was eighteen damn it, not sixteen. Being a soldier meant you were in complete control of yourself. And this was the farthest thing from it. Running off into the woods to jack off like some horny teen.

 

Oh God.

 

He was a horny teen! Shame made him blush anew. Some super soldier he'd make. At this rate, he wasn't going to win this mission, let alone survive it. He sucked in a breath, held it, trying to bring his pulse back to normal.

 

“Get a grip, Morrison,” he told himself. “You can do this.”

 

It was just another test, that was all. That's how he'd treat it. Reyes was a distraction. In combat, he'd have to learn to block out distractions and keep his focus on the mission. Focus. Mission. Eye on the prize.

 

But there was a very nice ass to the side of the prize that was much nicer to look at.

 

As tempting as it was to run away to some other valley and live out the remainder of his life as a solitary hill person, he had to go back to camp and face Reyes. At least now that he'd rubbed one out maybe he'd be more relaxed and could get through the day without having to worry about inconvenient boners. He hoped anyways.

 

Checking himself to make sure there were no incriminating stains, he stood. His legs wobbled only for a moment.

 

“Soldier. Focus,” he repeated. Zipping his fly, he headed back, trying not to let himself think about all the ways this could go wrong.

 

Despite many, many prayers that Reyes would somehow not be there to see him slink back, he was. Sitting outside the shelter, checking the new map they'd stolen last night. In nothing but the blanket and his beanie. Shit. Inconvenient boners were back in play.

 

Please don't say anything, Jack hoped as he approached. Please don't say anything.

 

Reyes looked up. “Yo,  _ Chico de oro. _ ” His grin was positively wicked. “You get a good look earlier?”

 

Jack's eyes widened, his heart stalled as his jaw dropped open. He managed to get a grand total of no words out.

 

Reyes threw his head back and laughed. “Your face!” He wrapped his arms around himself, laughing so hard he was shaking again.

 

Jack wasn't sure if he was more indignant or embarrassed. “I said I was sorry.” He turned his face away. “It's not like I did it on purpose.” Please good God let him stop talking about this.

 

“Like what you saw?”

 

Jack's head snapped back to the other. Oh shit was he serious? Was he just being an ass? What did he say?

 

“Oh my God don't have a stroke,  _ Chico de oro _ . You act like you've never seen a naked dude before.”

 

Oh he'd seen plenty, just none that made his heart race like this.

 

Reyes must have taken his lack of comeback as an affirmative. “Damn, bum-fuck-nowhere still in the dark ages. They make it illegal for dudes to shower together in the locker room without a wetsuit?”

 

Jack lifted his chin, trying to stay calm and focused. “I have an incredibly open mind about sexuality  _ and _ homosexuality thank you,” he said, pleased his voice didn't crack.

 

Reyes' eyebrow arched up all the way to his beanie's hem.

 

“If you think that you're going to embarrass me with something so crass, you're wrong. I'm embarrassed that I invaded your privacy. Nothing else.” Okay so also something else but mostly the privacy thing. “And bum-fuck-nowhere Indiana is chalk full of gay men that can shower however they like. We're not as backwards as you seem to think.”

 

“Well shit, Morrison, you've left me speechless.” Reyes pointed to his cheek with his middle finger. “You've got a little gold showing right about here.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off.” He got the rifle out from its hiding place and a couple of rounds of the dwindling ammunition. “Come on and get dressed.”

 

“Planning on taking me out back and shooting me?” Reyes asked.

 

“We're scouting. And on the way, I'm going to teach you how to hunt so the next time you find yourself alone in the woods, you at least won't starve.”

 

“If you think I'm gutting Bambi you can guess again,” Reyes scoffed.

 

“I'll gut Bambi,” Jack said. “You're learning how to find and kill him.” He offered Reyes a hand.

 

The other grasped it and stood. “So, going to turn me into a mighty hunter?”

 

“I'm going to make you slightly less of a city boy.”

 

Reyes' mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile but wasn't letting himself. “Fine. But when we get back to the city, I'm teaching you to be less of a farm boy.”

 

“Deal. Now put on some pants.”

 

“Why? You and your 'incredibly open mind about homosexuality' can't handle being around a hot  _ Latino _ in nothing but a towel?” He smacked his ass for emphasis

 

Jack wasn't sure if he blacked out for a moment. It felt like he blacked out for a moment. Blacked out and was back in one of his dreams, because that's exactly what he wanted. Focus. Focus. Focus.

 

Fuck. Focusing was hard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Jack. That wasn't a black out, that was death. He died of hotness overload. He was so young.


	11. Chapter 11

Reyes' shots were perfect, just like the rest of him. He learned fast. Probably what got him his rank so quickly. With a little practice, he might make a damn good tracker someday. Jack was impressed. He'd hit both the wild quail on the wing and the fleeing cottontail. Not easy marks.

 

Reyes grunted, handing back the rifle. “Don't like it.”

 

“You did damn good with it.”

 

“Eh.” Reyes shook his hands like he had something nasty on them. “Not enough power.”

 

“Any more power and there wouldn't be anything but a bloodstain for lunch.”

 

“That's the point of guns.”

 

Jack rolls his eyes. “You want to vaporize small woodland creatures but you puke your guts out when I gut a deer.”

 

“It's different.”

 

Jack retrieved their lunch while he had Reyes work on his fire starting and tending skills.

 

“Do I get a merit badge for this?”

 

“Sure. Let me just pull one out of my ass,” Jack scoffed, putting the cleaned and plucked carcasses on sticks and setting them to roast. He took a swig from the canteen and passed it. “So. How long you think they'll keep us out here?”

 

“Don't know.” Reyes took a gulp, a tail of water trickled out of the corner of his mouth, down his neck and disappeared under the neckline of his shirt. “They're culling us.”

 

“Culling?” Jack asked, tearing his gaze away from Reyes’ neckline. 

 

“You're the farm boy. You should know what that means.”

 

“I do, but in cattle terms, not people.”

 

Reyes laughed. “Military terms,  _ Chico de oro _ . There's fifty of us. Some of us ain't gonna cut it in SEP. So they take us all out to the woods and separate the boys from the men. See who has what it takes to survive before we get into the real part of it.”

 

Jack frowned, his stomach muscles contracting uncomfortably. “There has to be a better way to test people then dumping them in the forest with nothing.”

 

Reyes shrugged. “Sometimes that's all you get on a mission. You gotta make do and get it done without the bells and whistles.”

 

Jack checked lunch. Still too raw. “Hey, Reyes... can I ask you something?”

 

“Why you asking for permission? Got something to say, just say it.”

 

“It's... what do you think SEP will be?”

 

Reyes rolled his dark whiskey eyes. “Duh, Soldier Enhancing.”

 

“I meant more....” Jack fumbled for the words to express the knot of unease in his gut that wouldn't quite dissipate every time the Program was brought up. “What will they do to us?”

 

Reyes' attitude seemed to drop away as he studied Jack. “You scared?”

 

Jack looked at the small flames of the cooking fire. “Not exactly.” He was leaning a little more toward frightened. He shook his head. Bravdo would only egg Reyes on to tease him. “Scratch that, I'm completely terrified. You read about this kind of stuff in comic books, or see old sci-fi movies and it's never pretty. And something always goes wrong.” He shot Reyes a rueful smile. “The worst usually happens to the innocent golden boy.” He shouldn't be putting himself out there. A city boy would never trust someone they'd only known for a few weeks. But Jack didn't have anyone to voice his fears too. Even if Reyes only laughed and threw it back in his face, at least someone else knew.

 

“Hey.” Reyes' voice had lost all of its mocking tones and spiteful edge. “Honest to God, I think it's going to be bad. Really bad.”

 

Jack cringed.

 

“Super painful shit. Like giant needles and what not. But everything that's worth a damn is worth the pain to get it.” He put his hand on Jack's shoulder, squeezing just enough to be comforting. “You said you wanted to be a soldier, protect people and all that  _ chico de oro  _ shit. Well, if you fight for this, endure the pain, you'll save a lot of lives. Is that worth it to you?”

 

Jack looked long into the other boy's eyes. This pep talk from the same person that scared a bus full of kids with ghost stories? “You're not too bad at this speech giving thing.”

 

Reyes scoffed, pushing Jack but never taking his hand away. “Hey, things turned out alright for that sweet golden boy Captain America didn't it? Now there is the daddy of  _ Chico de oros _ .” He squinted. “Blond hair, blue eyes... you sure you two aren't related?”

 

Jack laughed. “Pretty confident we're not, what with him being a fictional character and all.”

 

“If you're still worried about SEP,” Reyes went on, looking put out. “I guess I could, you know, look out for you or something.”

 

“You'd do that?” Jack asked. “For me?”

 

Reyes grumbled, taking his hand away. “Well someone has to keep you from getting mugged or shot when we get back to the city. Trusting idiot that you are. But I'm in it to the end, no matter what they do. If you chicken-shit drop out, you're on your own.”

 

Jack put his hand on Reyes' shoulder, squeezing. “I'll be with you to the end of the line.”

 

Reyes sighed. “Just don't die on me. It's annoying making friends and if you make me do it again I'll kill ya.”

 

Jack opened his mouth to say if anyone was going to die first, it was going to be Reyes when there was a bang. Both swiveled, looking skyward. A bright red flare arched its way through the sky, leaving a trail of smoke from its origin point.

 

“I'll check it out,” Jack said, shouldering the rifle.

 

Reyes put a hand on his shoulder. “Could be a trap.”

 

“Or someone could need help.”

 

“Believing the best in people is going to get you killed in the field.”

 

“And it's also going to save a lot of lives.” Jack grinned, making sure to make it extra big and his accent extra country. “Why Gabriel, are you worried about little ol' me?”

 

“I'm worried you're going to get caught and lose that rifle. Then how will we kill Bambi?”

 

Jack chuckled, standing. “I do know how to hide my position. I have gone through basic.”

 

Reyes snorted, standing with him. “Basic don't teach you shit. You gotta learn in the real world. I'm going with.”

 

“My own guardian angel,” Jack said, picking up their—of course now—cooked lunch. “Hope you like fast food.”

 

They set off at a brisk pace. Jack took point, but Reyes was right on his heels, breathing down his neck, pushing Jack to increase their speed. He wondered which of them was faster.... Jack brought them up short behind some cover and crouched. Reyes fell in behind him, no orders needed.

 

Another recruit was working his way through the woods, toward the flare. He looked as bad as Reyes had before Jack picked him up. 

 

The whole valley must have seen. This threw a wrench in the whole capture the flag idea. Would anyone call a truce until they knew what the flare meant?

 

Reyes nudged his back, pointing to their three o'clock. Two more recruits, less cautious about their movements, wound through the trees.

 

“It's a trap,” Reyes said in his ear.

 

Jack tried very hard not to break out in goosebumps. “How do you know?”

 

“Everyone saw that flare. Everyone's curious and coming to see what's up. That's a lot of recruits in one place. It's a set up.”

 

“We still have to find out what's going on,” Jack said. “What if it was from command?”

 

Reyes' gaze flicked to him. “That's what I'm worried about.”

 

“You? Worried?”

 

“Fuck off, Morrison. I know I'm talking about.”

 

Reyes had two years more experience, Jack would be stupid not to defer to him. “I trust you.”

 

The dark eyes searched his for some reason. Jack wanted to ask what the intense look was for, but they had more pressing things to worry about. “I'm better with the rifle. I'll go check it out. You hang back and cover me.”

 

Reyes nodded. “Don't get close,” he snapped. “You hang way back, keep hidden. I don't like this.”

 

Jack allowed himself a momentary break from his hard fought battle to keep from touching Reyes. He turned, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. “Hey, I can handle this.”

 

“If anything goes wrong,” Reyes said, “I'll meet you back at camp.”

 

Jack nodded, then broke cover, leaving the other behind. Without Reyes' bulk covering his six, Jack felt oddly exposed. Working alone had never bothered him before, but now he missed the comfort working in a team provided. There were more people in the trees here. Jack's hands tightened on the rifle. Too many people. Too many people looking from one to the other, assessing, plotting. Jack really missed Reyes at his back.

 

The trees thinned. Ahead was a wide clearing with something sitting in the middle. Reyes' voice in the back of his mind told him: stop. Hide. No cover out there, too exposed. Good idea. Jack ducked himself down against a tree trunk, keeping what little brush there was to hide in to his left. He hoped the rifle would deter anyone from trying to engage him.

 

The clearing was a few dozen yards out, but he had a clear view. Several recruits were milling around a metal crate. Supply drop? Could be another test. Trap, Reyes' voice whispered. Jack trusted him.

 

Nothing happened. Jack wanted to slink back, back to the comfort of Reyes' company, experience, hell, even the comfort of his bickering. But he had to find out what was going on. What if there were knives in that crate? Guns? Worse?

 

As time dragged on, more kids showed up. The place was getting positively crowed. Some stayed in the trees, watching. More went to inspect the crate. Fights and scuffles broke out over it. There was a team of ten that faced off a group of eight. It hadn't come to bloody blows just yet, but it was looking inevitable. The knot of unease grew. Jack had to know what was in the box, but he wasn't going in alone. And not when Reyes told him not to.

 

Suddenly, the two dozen or so recruits in the clearing jumped, flinching away from the crate. Jack's knuckles turned white as his gripped the rifle. The lid of the box slid open, the sides fell outward. A small metal lump sat in the middle of the huge box. It almost looked like the projector for a... holo-comm.

 

The lump hummed, then projected a twenty-foot tall image above the clearing. The SEP director's hawk like face glared down at them with her one good eye.

 

“The exercise is over,” she said, her voice sharp as any drill sergeant’s and loud enough that half the valley could hear it. Jack put a hand over his ear and did his best not to go deaf. “All recruits in the clearing are dead had this been a real mission. Twenty-five demerits each. You have forty-five minutes to bring all acquired trophies to base. Anyone that doesn't make it within the allotted time will receive ten demerits.”

 

The SEP director's face was replaced with a countdown. Forty-four minutes and change. Shit! Everyone seemed too stunned to move. Jack glanced left and right. He wasn't about to be the first to break cover.

 

Chaos started small. One of the cadets by the holo-projector tackled another. It exploded from there. Suddenly the teams fell on each other, ripping, tearing, pulling anything they could from one another. Behind the treeline, hidden recruits sprang away, crashed into one another, jumped on the distracted or unsuspecting. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He had to get back to Reyes, tell him it was a trap, tell him they had to move it. If he hadn't really heard the director. He stood.

 

Wrong move. He wasn't even fully upright from his crouch when a boy seemed to appear from another patch of cover. He wore more caked mud and foliage then clothes. His wide green eyes looked more like a feral dog's then a SEP cadet's. They locked on Jack. He had half a second to prepare before the other boy lunged.

 

Jack brought the rifle to bear too late. The other boy crashed into him, sending them both into the undergrowth Jack had been using for cover. Snarling like an animal, the boy's broken nails tore into Jack's face and neck. Pinned, Jack swung the butt of the rifle into the other's groin. The kid gasp-grunted and his attack relented. Jack bashed him again and rolled the other off him. He scrambled to his feet, barrel of the rifle pointed at his attacker. The other boy was curled into the fetal position, holding his cock. Jack wanted to make sure he was alright, but the screams and yells around him reminded him he was running out of time. Before anyone else could try to take a crack at him, he ran.

 

Everyone was running. Most didn't seem to care to keep hidden. Jack felt more or less the same. Speed was key now. He had to get back to Reyes, get their shit from camp and get to base, without getting jumped on the way.

 

He slid to a stop where he'd left Reyes. The cover was empty. Fuck. “Reyes!” he called. Maybe he'd had to move.

 

No response.

 

Camp. If anything went wrong Reyes would meet him at camp. Jack tucked the rifle under his arm and ran.

 

He passed less people the further he got from the clearing. He hopped that meant there was less chance Reyes had run into someone. Why was he worried? Reyes was top of the class, he could handle himself. Still, with all the madness and people driven by a ticking clock, God only knew who would be desperate enough to attack anyone they crossed paths with.

 

The terrain sloped up, leading Jack to his camp nestled in the hills. The rushing of water over stones in the stream gave him little comfort as he vaulted over it. He charged through the underbrush, not caring about leaving a trail and skidded to a halt in the middle of camp.

 

Or what was left of it.

 

Someone had torn it apart. The shelter was shredded, the fire ring kicked apart. The deer carcass had been rolled away into the brush where it buzzed with flies. More importantly, the gap in the roots of the tree where he and Reyes had stashed their trophies was empty. The only thing unmoved was the deer hide that lay crumpled over the spot where Jack had slept only a few hours ago.

 

Holy shit. Someone had raided their camp!

 

“Reyes!” he yelled, not caring if anyone heard him. Shit they needed to get moving! Where the hell was he? Oh shit, what if someone had hurt him when they'd done this? “Reyes!” he yelled again.

 

A moan answered him. Jack left camp, not even caring anymore. All he cared about was his friend’s well being. He jogged down the hill. “Reyes?”

 

Half-hidden in some brush was a pair of legs, the fatigues torn. Jack's heart leapt into his mouth. His sprinted over, sliding to his knees beside the body. “Reyes!”

 

Jack rolled the other over. The face was covered in blood and bruises. The dark hair was plastered to the pale forehead. The eye that wasn't starting to swell shut opened, its gray marred by bloodshot veins.

  
Jack wasn't sure if he was relieved or not that it wasn’t Reyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT!? Plot what the hell are you doing here?!
> 
> Well, things couldn't go so smoothly could they? That's just not Jack's luck.


	12. Chapter 12

The vaguely familiar boy on the ground coughed. “Runt?”

 

“Green? Are you alright?” Jack had pretty much forgotten Green existed. And this beat up excuse for a recruit didn't much resemble the cocky bully from the transport. “What the hell are you doing here? Where's Reyes?”

 

Green turned his head and spat a wad of blood. “Who the hell do you think did this to me?”

 

Jack stared in shock. “What happened?”

 

“I followed that fucking bastard,” Green growled. “Hoping to catch him with his guard down. He was tearing up his camp when I got here. I tried jumping him, but he got a lucky punch.”

 

A few dozen lucky punches if his face was any indication. Jack grabbed the other boy by his torn collar. “What was Reyes doing tearing up camp?”

 

“Didn't you hear, runt? Game's over. Gotta get back to base with what you got or you get a spanking. Reyes is pry halfway there already.” He glared with his good eye. “That fucking wetback.” His hands shot out, grabbing at Jack's neck. “Good thing you showed up though.”

 

Green got his fingers in Jack's dog tags and twisted. Jack clutched at the chain as it cut into his throat. He gasped, heart thundering, lungs burning for air. Green yanked, tearing the tags free with a burst of pain. Jack reeled back, struggling to breath. That asshole! Jack slammed the butt of the rifle into Green's face. There was a satisfying crack as the polished wood hit bone and the other boy laid still, fresh stream of blood trickling down from his nose. Good. Jack hope he broke it. He snatched back his tags that dangled from a broken chain. Fuck. He stuffed them in his pocket and went back to camp. It couldn't be right.

 

Everything he and Reyes had collected together was gone. No. Jack refused to believe it. Reyes had a perfectly good reason for doing what he did. Friends didn't betray each other. He looked southward, the holo-projected clock telling him he had twenty-nine and a half to figure things out and get his ass to base.

 

He still had his stash. The four trophies he'd collected before Reyes. Hastily, he dug them up from their out of camp hiding place. If Reyes really had... no. No he wasn't going to believe Reyes would do something so low. Not after what they'd shared. Not after he’d promised to look out for him. He tied everything in the stolen jacket, loaded the last two rounds of ammo and headed south.

 

Maybe Reyes was waiting for him along the path.

 

He set his pace to a jog. It was a good distance to base, if he kept steady, he should make it comfortably. If he wasn't jumped. If he didn't stop to look for Reyes. The make-shift pack bounced against his back, the rifle grew heavy in his hands. Should he look for Reyes? He could be out here, hiding, waiting to hook up—shit—meet up. But if he'd dealt with Green so easily, why would he be hiding? Surely he knew Jack was going to come back to camp, he was going to find all their stuff gone. He said he'd look out for me....

 

Jack shook off the doubts. No. That wasn't Reyes. He was surly, teasing on the verge of being mean, and not exactly friendly, but he wasn't a betrayer. He had honor, or he would have robbed Jack blind long ago. There was a reason. Jack just couldn't guess it.

 

He left the hills and the trees closed in around him. The cover that had comforted him not long ago suddenly felt alien. There was more noise. He kept seeing movement out of the corner of his eye. There were others out there, pushed to panic, trying to snag the last minute points, preying on the weak. Jack refused to be one of them. He pumped the rifle. He had what he earned, and he was going to keep it.

 

There wasn't a clear path and without the elevation of the hill camp, Jack had to work his way south with only memory of base's direction. He wished he could see the clock. What did he have, fifteen? Twelve? He couldn't afford to screw up. He stopped in the shadow of a small boulder, put his back to it and dug out his map. The creases and markings of possible camp locations had faded, but he knew the location of base. Tracing his finger over his best guess of his path, he was little over half way, if he was lucky. There should be plenty of time.

 

Someone screamed. Jack's attention and rifle snapped up. He scanned the trees. Nothing. The scream came again. Two o'clock, leading away from the direction of base. Sounded scared. Fuck. He didn't have time for this. Stuffing the map back in his pocket, he tucked the butt of the rifle in his shoulder, muzzle up and headed toward the scream.

 

Trap! Reyes' voice snapped in the back of his mind. Idiot. You don't have time! He pushed the voice aside. Who had time for traps? They had what, ten minutes maybe? Slowly, the worked his way through the trees, eyes open, muscles tense, back desperately missing the comforting presence of Reyes watching his six.

 

Thudding of boot on flesh echoed through the air. Jack adjusted course, slowing his steps, breathing deep to calm his heart. More thuds lead him on. He stopped when two recruits came into view. One was rifling through a heap, the other had his boot planted on the side of a sobbing mass of flesh. Jack's hands tensed. Bullies.

 

“Where are your tags?” the one rifling snapped. “Hit him again.”

 

The boy on the ground curled tighter as the boot stomped down on his shoulder.

 

“Hey!” Jack exploded from his scant cover, rifle pointed at the boot-stomping recruit. “Leave him alone!”

 

Only after he'd exposed himself did Reyes' voice get through to him. It was mostly swearing and calling him an idiot. Both of the bullies looked up, paling at the sight of the rifle. But they didn't scatter. If anything, their gazes looked calculating.

 

“It's Golden Boy,” boot-stomp said. “Nice gun.”

 

“Remove your foot and get lost,” Jack ordered, gaze flicking between the two.

 

“Wonder if it's loaded,” the other bully said, a wolf-like smirk curling lips. “The runt ain’t got the guts to—”

 

Jack adjusted his aim and pulled the trigger. The blast tore apart the quiet. The bullet exploded the bark of the tree an inch from boot-stomp's right ear. Jack smoothly pumped the gun, settling it back into his shoulder, ready to fire again. Both bullies flinched away, but didn't leave.

 

“You can't kill us!” wolf-grin protested.

 

“No,” Jack admitted. “But I can and will shoot you.”

 

“You wouldn't,” boot-stomp hissed. “Not Golden Boy.”

 

“I'm angry, frustrated, and looking for any excuse to get my aggression out,” Jack said. His calm tone surprised him. Possibly betrayed by the guy that was blue-balling him, attacked twice, ticking clock pressing down, he thought he would have been spitting acid. “Leave, or you're leaving with a bullet in you.”

 

Wolf-grin stood slowly, putting his hands up. “Alright, we're going.”

 

Boot-stomp shot a glare at his conspirator. Jack motioned with the end of the barrel for him to move away from the kid on the ground. Slowly, he did. Both backed away. Jack carefully moved forward, rifle still trained on the pair as he side stepped over to the sobbing kid.

 

“You alright?” he asked.

 

“I-I think they broke my leg.” The voice was plaintive, clearly, they'd put the beat down on this loner.

 

Don't, warned Reyes' voice. Jack's gaze slid from his two targets to the boy on the ground. He wasn't a doctor, but the leg didn't look broken. His gaze came back up. Boot-stomp was right on top of him, hand outstretched, knocking the rifle away. Basic took over. Jack saw the blow coming at him and swiveled to lessen its force. Boot-stomp connected with Jack's jaw, but it was glancing. The next round house coming the other way caught him in the cheek. Coppery tasting blood splattered his mouth. 

 

That’s it. He was fucking  _ done _ . 

 

He spun with the blow, turning in a full circle. He flipped the rifle mid spin, grabbing hold of the barrel. He pivoted his hips, swinging the weapon like a club. It smashed into the side of Boot-stomp’s head with a satisfying crunch. The recruit staggered drunkenly, nearly going down to his knees. 

 

Jack tossed the rifle to the ground. “No more fucking  _ Golden _  Boy.” 

 

Boot-stomp whiplashed back up, blood streaming out of his nose and mouth, animal fury in his eyes. He lunged, fists swinging. 

 

Jack ducked under the blows, ramming his fist into Boot-stomp's dick. The bully gasped and doubled over, unable to fight back. That felt good. Good to take all his frustration and channel it into something with results. He swung his knee up, bashing it into the gasping face. He must have put more fury and sexual frustration into the blow then he meant to. Boot-stomp practically back-flipped from the force. He slammed to the ground with a thud that shook the ground under Jack’s boots. He sprawled on the dirt, unmoving save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

 

“And stay down.” That was one— 

 

Wolf-grin came out of left field. He bashed into to Jack, tackling him to the ground. His fists were small but compact, pummeling Jack's ribs and chest mercilessly as they rolled in the dirt like animals. If Jack had been starving and cold, they probably would have hurt more. But he was well fed and fueled by anger. And he wanted to fucking  _ fight _ someone. 

 

With a roar, he grabbed his attacker's shoulders, yanking them down as he brought his forehead up. Blood splattered across his forehead as Wolf-grin howled, clutching his face.

 

In the opening that left him, Jack coiled his legs and kicked. His boots connected with Wolf-grin’s stomach and sent him flying back. Jack scrambled up. Wolf-grin rolled to his feet, one hand clutching his stomach, the other pulled a knife from his boot. 

Goddamn it Jack had needed one of those this whole exercise!

 

“I’m going to cut that pretty face of yours, you perfect little bitch!”

 

Fists in a knife fight was not a smart idea. Reyes’ voice was telling him that in a very unhelpful sarcastic tone. But Jack was pretty damn good at hand-to-hand. Besides, Reyes would do it without blinking. This was what being a badass was all about. He dropped into a ready stance and crooked his finger. “Come get some.” 

 

Wolf-grin lunged, knife whistling through the air. Jack dodged. The razor sharp tip whizzed by his face, slicing his cheek. Okay so this was a  _ really _ bad idea after all. The knife slashed at his face again on the backswing. Grapple, get in close. This guy was only a little bigger and heavier, he could take him. He stepped in closer, blocking the knife arm and punching him in the jaw. Wolf-grin staggered. Jack reached for the knife wrist. The weapon lashed out, cutting him across the bicep. 

 

Sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, Jack backed off. The cut looked shallow but it bled like a motherfucker! Snarling, Jack balled his hands into bloody fists. Wolf-grin growled back, licking the blood off his lips as he sized Jack up. 

 

So the badass approach didn’t work. Time to be smart. A little late for that, Reyes’ oh-so-fucking-helpful voice added in the back of his mind. 

 

They circled each other, looking for openings. Jack was smaller and lighter than most of the kids in basic with him. So while most guys went brute force with training, Jack had studied judo with most of the women. Skill mattered, not strength or size. He was never going to badass overpower this guy like Reyes would. He had to start using skill to his advantage. First things first. Get that knife out of here. 

 

He made a show of favouring his right leg and stumbling. Wolf-grin took the bait. He attacked. Jack knew what side the attack could come on and was ready. He pivoted, grabbing the back of the slashing hand, thumb behind the dirt-coated knuckles. All it took was a slight twist and the hand popped open. A little more torque and the whole limb twisted the wrong way. Wolf-grin howled, dropping to his knees to escape the pressure and ease the strain on his joints. 

 

Jack put him in an arm bar, twisting hard. “Had enough?”

 

Wolf-grin jerked, flinging and handful of dirt in Jack’s eyes. With a yelp, he let go, stumbling back. Shit that burned! He wiped his vision clear in time to have a massive shoulder catch him in the solar plexus and slam him into a tree trunk. Shit that hurt! A fist smashed face. His whole head rang. Fuck that hurt too! The fist battered him again. Now he was seeing stars. Fucking hell Reyes would be laughing his ass off if he saw this. 

 

“Not so pretty now, are you, Golden Boy?” Wolf-grin hissed. 

 

Jack pealed his lips back into a snarl. He grabbed the back of the other’s head, turned and smashed it into the tree. The bark cracked. Wolf-grin groaned, hands grasping for support as his knees buckled. Jack grabbed him by his torn shirt collar and pulled the other's bloody face to his.

 

“Call me Golden Boy again and I'll show you exactly how  _ not _ golden I can be,” he snarled, his voice low. 

 

“What are you gonna do?” Wolf-grin leered. “You. Cock. Guzzling. Golden. Boy. Bitch.”

 

Jack smashed his forehead into broken nose again. The other recruit crumpled to the ground. Jack dropped on top of him, legs straddling his chest. “How’s—” He punched the bloody face. "This—” He pummeled him again. “For—” One of Wolf-grin’s lips split open after another blow, gushing blood. “Golden?” Jack twisted his hips, bringing his full weight into the swing that cracked across Wolf-grin’s face with a very satisfying crunch of bone. 

 

Wolf-grin’s head lolled against the dirt, blood oozing down his broken face. All the moved with his chest. Jack waited a moment to see if it was a trick. When it seemed the other was really unconscious, Jack staggered to his unsteady feet. Goddamn his face hurt, his head hurt. But he’d won. He spat a glob of blood onto his downed opponent's chest. “Who’s the bitch now?”

 

His legs were shaky as he stepped over the unconscious Wolf-grin and went to their victim who was still curled up on the ground. “You alright, kid?” he asked, wiping his mouth on his arm.

 

“My leg,” the boy whimpered. “I can't walk.”

 

Shit. And they were still a couple miles from base. Jack looked up at the sky. Fuck what kind of time did they have? Would they send out medics to tend the wounded? Or did they expect everyone to crawl back on their own?

 

“Go,” the boy said. “You could probably still make it.” He put a shaking hand in his pocket and pulled out his dog tags. “Take them. And... thanks for sticking up for me.”

 

Jack knelt, pushing the tags aside. “Save it.” He grabbed the kid's wrist and pulled him up to a sitting position.

 

“What are you—” the kid asked, dazed. “But the clock.”

 

“You don't leave a man behind.” Jack said, ducking his shoulder and pulling the boy over them into a fire-man's carry. “Now shut up and save your strength.” He retrieved his fallen rifle and stood. The kid pry weighed about one-fifty, one-eighty. Heaver than the packs drill sergeants enforced on runs. Jack adjusted the weight so it was as close to even as he could manage and set off at a jog.

 

The boy groaned on his shoulder, bouncing against Jack's sore neck. He ignored it. Mission on the line, he found the long elusive focus he'd been looking for. Breathe, check surroundings, one foot, then the other. Pick up the pace. Breathe, check surroundings, pick up the pace, one foot in front of the other.

 

Sweat streamed down his face into the laceration on his cheek. His bicep burned and tingled at the same time. Whenever he moved his head, dirt rained down from his hair. His tired, abused body begged for a respite. He forced weakness to the back of his mind. He'd rest when the mission was done. Left, right, left. There'd be medical at base. The kid would be fine. Jack adjusted his grip. The kid said nothing. Jack spared a glance to the face dangling over his shoulder.

 

Passed out. The kid looked pale under the black and blue bruises. Well, at least he wasn't complaining. Jack just hoped what he saw was the worst of it. Come on. Head down, left, right. Count down. How long? Minutes, seconds? It was right ahead. Just had to hang in there. There'd be a cot, pillow. Left... Left, right. His legs burned. The extra weight dragged him down, slowed him. No. He wasn't going to let it. Harder. Work harder. Just had to work harder. Jack panted, sweat and blood dripping off his chin.

 

The footing under his boots changed, became less loose dirt and more maintained road. Huffing, his focus narrowed. Left... right... one dirty, blood-splattered boot after the other. His back was on fire, lactic acid pooling between the shoulder blades as numb tingles claimed his arms. Shit, his bicep had gone completely numb. God, he wanted to rest so bad. No, don't think of that. Goal. Mission.... Reyes.

 

Anger and arousal in equal measure flared inside of him. The mission was fucked. He wanted answers. Reyes had them. His steps came faster, his breath evened out. The pain in his back fueled instead of drained him. He was going to find that handsome bastard and punch him square in his goddamn smirking mouth. His hands were going right to his throat and wrapping around it as he shook him back and forth. And then he’d kiss him.  _ If _ Jack didn't kill him first. He wasn't sure which it would be.

 

He stumbled. Barely catching his balance, he righted himself and pushed on. The trees thinned. Blue sky hung over a large open patch of land. A four story concrete monstrosity lay in the middle of the emerald world like an ugly scar.

 

Base.

 

He'd made it.

 

“We're here,” he said to his unconscious friend. “Don't worry, medical is right there.” He staggered past the perimeter fence onto a maintained lawn. The grass felt comforting and soft. Shit what he would have given to have his shelter set up on something so soft. His back was killing him. 

 

The main doors were open. Jack angled toward them, boots dragging. He grunted, shifting the dead weight on his shoulders. As he drew closer, he could discern voices, lots of voices. Staggering through the entryway, the voices suddenly cut off.

 

Jack glanced around the room. Several dozen recruits stared at him. Many were half-starved, more looked some degree of wounded. None of them were the one he wanted.

 

“Medic!” He roared, forcing his anger into the command. “I need a medic!”

 

None of the recruits moved. A pair of active-duty military orderlies burst on to the scene, pushing the stunned onlookers out of the way.

 

“He was beaten and kicked in the face and midsection,” Jack told them, as they helped him slide the kid off his shoulders. “Ribs feel fractured. Said his leg was broken before he passed out.”

 

The medical team didn't say anything. Or maybe they did and Jack couldn't hear them over the pounding of his heart. One put her hand on Jack's face and shown a light in his eye. He grunted and waved them off. Were they trying to blind him? “I'm fine,” he said, not knowing if they'd even asked him. The woman with the light looked concerned for a moment, then turned back to her new patent. Jack watched them carry the poor kid between them. He hopped he'd be alright.

 

Suddenly, he was aware of the hush that had fallen over the room. He looked over his shoulder. Every eye was on him. Good. Jack turned to face them, still gripping the hunting rifle. By their shocked expressions, he could imagine what he must look like to them. Dirt covered, scruffy, blood streaming down his face and arm, blood staining his shirt, jaw bruised, eye starting to swell shut. He must look a few screws short. But he'd never felt more calm, more focused. The mission end was in his sights. He cocked his head right, then left, making sure his gaze slid over each and every silent recruit.

  
“Where the _fuck_ is Reyes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is kindness, goodness, and honor personified... until that switch is flipped and then he will WRECK you. 
> 
> Beware making the golden kitten angry. Then you find out he's a fucking LION.


	13. Chapter 13

No one spoke.

 

“Where the _fuck_ is Reyes?” he repeated. His hands tightened on the rifle. Someone knew. His gaze flicked from one face to the next, searching. Shit. What if he wasn't here?

 

“He's—”

 

Jack's head swiveled, his gaze boring into the boy that spoke. The kid flinched away from him, then pointed down a hall.

 

“Director's office,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Been in there since he showed up.”

 

Jack turned without a word, storming toward the office. Whispers broke out in his wake. He didn't care. His sole focus was keeping his anger in check long enough for Reyes to explain himself. Marching toward the door, he had to restrain the impulse to curl his hands into fists. Faith, he reminded himself. It didn't have the same calming effect as last time. Faith, he reminded himself again, trying to force himself to mean it like he had only a night ago.

 

The door was open so he didn't knock, just walked in.

 

Reyes stood at ease in front of a large, empty desk. He turned, eyebrow arched, smirk curling his full lips. “'Bout time, _chico de oro_. You were starting to make me worry.”

 

 _Him_ worry? Jack laughed—it sounded manic even to him—dropping the rifle and advancing toward Reyes, hands itching to choke him as he kissed that smirk right off his face.

 

“Cadet Morrison,” came the director's harsh voice.

 

He halted and snapped to attention as the director walked in the door. She glided across the floor, her boots thumping on the tile. Jack took several breaths to cool his temper. He'd have to kill Reyes later.

 

“For your sake, I am going to assume that rifle is unloaded,” the director said, taking her seat behind the desk.

 

“Sir, yes, Sir,” Jack said, knowing full well there was one in the chamber.

 

“Bring a weapon into my office again and I'll have your ass.”

 

“Yes, Sir. Understood, Sir.”

 

“At ease.”

 

Jack dropped out of attention into the slightly more comfortable ease stance, legs apart, hands clasped behind his back. His elbow nearly brushed Reyes'.

 

“You're ten minutes over time with nothing to show for it. Well cadet? What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

Jack started straight ahead. “No excuses, Sir.” He could very easily blame Reyes, but he didn't have answers. He wasn't going to throw him to the lions for no reason. Besides, it was his own fault. He curled his hands tighter behind his back. “I knew I was running out of time and I stopped.”

 

“Stopped?” The director asked. “For what?”

 

“There was a recruit with a broken leg that needed assistance. I gave him aid, and when he couldn't walk, I carried him back.”

 

He felt Reyes shift beside him, but he refused to look at the other.

 

“You put your place in SEP in jeopardy to help a boy with a twisted ankle?” the director asked.

 

“Broken leg, Sir.”

 

She dismissed his correction with a flick of her hand. “The mission was on the line.”

 

Jack bristled. “With all due respect, Sir, the recruit’s well-being was more important than the mission.”

 

She was silent, her harsh green eyes boring holes right through Jack like he was tissue paper. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Seems like Cadet Reyes’ faith in you wasn’t misplaced.”

 

Jack blinked, looking at the director. “Sir?”

 

“Your partner has refused to be evaluated and receive his points and demerits until you returned.  _If_ you returned.”

 

Jack glanced at Reyes before turning back. “I don't think I understand,” he told the director.

 

“Cadet Reyes has made a case that you two functioned as a team, and therefore, should be judged as one, not as individuals.”

 

Jack was pretty sure he still didn't understand. “Sir?”

 

“Since you were a team, your performance shall be judged with that in mind.” Her gaze flicked to Reyes. “Since one of you was over time, you shall receive the ten demerits.”

 

Jack wanted to flinch but stopped himself.

 

“However, since one of you was also back at base within the time limit, you shall receive only half. Now present your trophies.”

 

Reyes scooped up the bundle of stuff he'd taken from camp and put it on the director's desk. Jack blushed. He'd only taken the rifle after the scuffle with Boot-stomp and Wolf-grin. Four trophies down the drain. He touched his pocket. His dog tags! He pulled the broken chain tags out of his pocket.

 

“You forgot these,” he said putting them in Reyes' hand.

 

Reyes looked down at them, then up at him, confused. Jack shrugged and nodded toward the desk. “They're from another recruit, they count.”

 

“ _Pinche gringo_ ,” Reyes muttered loud enough for only Jack to hear. He reached up and took off his beanie, handing it to Jack as his hair fell free.

 

Grinning, Jack put the hat on the desk. “I think that brings our total up to five.” Just enough to wipe out the demerits.

 

The director didn't look amused. “Congratulations cadets, you have a score of zero. This entire exercise was for nothing.”

 

Jack glanced at Reyes, and found the other boy looking at him. Nope. Definitely not for nothing.

 

The director swept the stuff off her desk to the floor. “Morrison, do something about your face. You look like you lost a fight with a cliff. In the future, try to follow your partner’s example and learn how to survive in the woods as well as he did.”

 

Jack had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something he’d regret. Reyes snickered at his side. Oh, Jack was going to fucking _murder_ him. “Yes, Sir. I’ll try, Sir.”

 

“Both of you get out of my office. Now.”

 

“Sir, yes, Sir!” both of them answered.

 

Reyes ducked down and retrieved his beanie while Jack scooped up his tags. Then they both left the office in a hurry. When they were out of view, Jack grabbed Reyes' arm, hauled him down the hall and pulled him into a vacant office.

 

“Explain,” he ordered. “Now.”

 

Reyes had the nerve to grin at him as he pulled his beanie back on. “Easy tiger. What’s got you so riled up?”

 

“You left me, took my shit, and ran,” Jack snapped. “I want an explanation.”

 

Reyes' grin slowly faded. “Yeah, and what did you think of that?”

 

“Think?” Jack roared. “I don't know what to think! You ducked out but you were here this whole time waiting for me? You took demerits for me? What the hell?”

 

“You could have told the director I stole your shit,” Reyes said, with fake levity. “After all, I did.”

 

“And what if you did it for a good reason?” Jack snapped back. “Or what if you knew something I didn't? Maybe someone chased you, or you knew someone had taken our stuff and you went after them to get it back? I said I trusted you.” He glared at the other. “And I meant it. So I want answers before I go accusing you of something terrible.”

 

Reyes' smirk came back. “Oh no, I totally stole all your shit. But I wanted to see what you'd do.”

 

Jack felt his face both pale and turn red in anger. “You _what_!”

 

“You said you trusted me, and I wanted to see if it was true.” Reyes shrugged. “I wanted to see if you'd try to kick my ass, or complain to the director. But you didn't.”

 

“Oh I gonna kick your ass,” Jack seethed. “Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why would you test me like that? There are a million other ways. Like, I don't know, fucking asking me what I'd do. Or you know, you trusting _me!_ ”

 

Reyes tilted his head away. “Trust issues.”

 

Jack let out an exasperated sigh. That explained some of his behavior. “Well, did I pass your stupid test or what?”

 

Reyes rubbed his scruffy chin. “I don't know, I'm still evaluating your performance.”

 

“Fuck you.” Jack shoved him and headed out the door.

 

Reyes fell into step at his side. “Fine you pass. This test. There are others.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes.

 

“Jesus,” Reyes said, reaching out and touching the cut on his cheek. “The director wasn't kidding. What the hell happened to you?”

 

Jack shoved the hand off him on principle. “Let's see. Where to start? Oh yes. After you abandoned me to your little test I was: Jumped by a manic recruit, had Green claw my neck up in revenge for what you did to him while fucking me over.” He barely blushed at his own words. “Thanks for that one. And then, while I was trying to catch up and beat the shit out of you, I ran into a couple bullies that I had to beat up instead.” He huffed, his anger defused and already bled away. “One of them might have got a few lucky punches.”

 

“I leave you alone for a minute, Morrison,” Reyes snapped. “One minute! And you're beaten up three times. I can't let you out of my sight.”

 

“And whose fault was that?” Jack snapped back.

 

“Are you ever going to shut up about this?” Reyes growled, rolling his eyes. “I was only testing you.”

 

“You don't know me very well. I can carry a grudge.”

 

“Well then,” Reyes said, smirking. “Let’s try not to piss each other off. Too much anyways.”

 

“I'm a delight to be around,” Jack said. “You're the one that needs to work on their abrasive personality.”

 

“ _Jesucristo_ , you sound exactly like my sisters.”

 

“So I'm not the only one that sees the problem.”

 

Reyes growled and shoved him almost playfully. “I'm going to blame your bitchiness on taking a few too many hits to the head and forgive you this time. Let's get you to medical so they can glue your thick skull back together.”

 

Jack wasn't about to complain. “Maybe they can do something about your face while we're there.”

 

Reyes actually chuckled. “ _Puta_ , have you been gossiping with my sisters? Getting your hair braided and painting your nails?”

 

Jack was practically beaming as they wandered their way to the medical ward. He'd got a sober Reyes to laugh and learned he had sisters. This exercise was totally worth it in his opinion.

 

The antiseptic on his cuts and bruises was very not worth it. The woman wanted to check him for a concussion—absurd, he'd never hit his head. Okay maybe once but it wasn’t that bad—and then practically wrap him head to toe in bandages when the worst he had was a few shallow lacerations. Reyes was no help. He didn't back Jack up. When the bandages came out, he kept telling the orderly to put more. Geeze he was like Jack's mother. It made him smile. Maybe Reyes did care a little after all. Jack hurried him out the second the orderly gave him enough breathing room to slip away.

 

“You sure that's enough?” Reyes asked. “I think I can still see some skin.”

 

Jack snorted and pulled the gauze off his neck. “I didn't realize it was Halloween.”

 

“They were just trying to save what was left of that pretty face of yours.”

 

“Aw,” Jack mocked. “You think I’m pretty, Reyes?”

 

“Sure, I guess wherever they make white bread farmer boys you’d be considered pretty.”

 

“And here I thought you’d never notice.”

 

“You better watch that cut. If you lose your looks you’ll have to get by on brains. You’ll be dead in twenty minutes.”

 

Jack laughed. “Well at least _I_ have looks to bank on.”

 

Reyes put a hand on Jack's shoulder and brought them to a halt. Not that Jack was complaining about the contact, but he wondered what it was for. He got his answer a moment later.

 

Green limped down the hall toward medical. Behind him, a shuffling Boot-stomp led a bloody-faced Wolf-grin. Great.

 

“Well look who it is,” Reyes said as they approached. “Green wasn't it? Didn't recognize you without all the sobbing.”

 

Jack nearly laughed. Green glared death at him. “You're going to be fucking sorry,” he snapped. “You better watch your back.”

 

Reyes scoffed.

 

“Don't worry,” Jack said, with a smile. “I'm watching it for him.”

 

Green's gaze shifted to Jack. “I owe you one, runt. And I won't forget it.” He shouldered past Jack. No doubt too chicken-shit to try that against Reyes.

 

“Hate that guy,” Jack grumbled.

 

“ _Chico de oro_ you're incapable of hate.”

 

“He called you a wetback,” Jack snarled under his breath. “If I'd had more time I would have broken more than his nose.”

 

Reyes made no comment, he just watched the other two come slinking down the hall. Boot-stomp glared, bearing his teeth in a snarl like an animal. Jack half closed his eyes, unimpressed. Reyes' arm suddenly engulfed his shoulders and Jack found himself pulled against Reyes' side like they'd been buddies for years.

 

“What are you looking at?” Reyes snapped.

 

Wolf-grin let go of his purple and blue jaw and glared at them both with one eye swollen shut. “You're friend won't be there one day, golden boy,” he hissed.

 

Jack could feel Reyes suck in a breath, no doubt to berate them with a torrent of wit and sarcasm. Jack put a hand up and stopped him. “Coo-low ee-yo dee poo-tah patch-a idi-yo-ta poo-toe. Pinch-a green-go.” He repeated every word Reyes had taught him. Well, the whiskey might have erased one or two. Or several.

 

Reyes tensed against his side. The other two looked confused as hell under the blood.

 

“Beuno,” Jack scoffed, as if he was ending a conversation.

 

“What he said,” Reyes added. He pushed Jack into a walk, arm still slung around his shoulders. When they were out of earshot, Reyes turned to Jack. “Do you have any idea what you just said?”

 

“Figured if you called me it, it must be pretty bad.” Jack shrugged.

 

Reyes laughed, curling his arm and bringing Jack into a headlock. “Well you're not wrong, _estupido_.”

 

Jack growled to cover the slight moan that might have slipped out of his mouth. He shoved against Reyes' very firm chest and got free.

 

“I really can't leave you alone,” Reyes teased. “You've just made three enemies in less than an hour.”

“Great. Thanks for reminding me, Reyes.”

 

“Gabe.”

 

Jack looked over at him. “What?”

 

The other shrugged, pulling down his beanie. “Friends call each other nicknames right? Well, I call you Jack, so you can call me Gabe or whatever. Just not Gabriel. I'll fucking kill you.”

  
Jack beamed as the other looked away, ears pink again. “I told you we'd be friends, Gabe.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come to the end again my friends. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed the ride as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you all so very, very much. Every kudos and comment goes right to my heart and stays there. All of you have made my fic posting experience so wonderful, I can't thank you all enough. 
> 
> I know a lot of people didn't want it to end, but sad to say, this is it for Under the Beanie. 
> 
> However... should anyone be interested in say, what happens in SEP with our adorable baby-teen boys... Good news everyone! There is a fic on the horizon for that! It's going to be a while coming through. I've got something BIG coming your way really soon. But have hope! I'm not done with these adorable balls of sexual frustration yet.


End file.
